


Loss of Innocence

by helena_s_renn, Helenas_bitch, orphan_account



Series: Teh Winchesters [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Rimming, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:19:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenas_bitch/pseuds/Helenas_bitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "A Hunt Gone Wrong". A week and a half later, away from the Roadhouse, Sam and Dean finally get to be alone together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Past abuse and coerced prostitution of then-teenaged Dean. Not-nice portrayal of John Winchester. And schmoop. 
> 
> This is RPG-fic, so it doesn't read the same as 'regular' fiction.

_"You good?"_

Sam looked at his brother and confirmed with a smile that he was ready. Dean looked happy in the driver's seat -- he must have missed his Baby. It had been ten days since Dean had taken her for a spin. Although Sam had encouraged him to go out on his own, Dean hadn't left Sam's bedside at Harvelle's. 

Weakened from the bullet wound and blood loss followed by an infection and mild withdrawal from the uppers, Sam had spent most of the past week and a half asleep. Every time he'd woken up, he'd found Dean sitting by his side, usually joining him under the sheets only a minute later. Sam smiled to himself. Maybe his affinity to his bed had not only been caused by his sickness. A stirring in his pants confirmed the theory and he rolled his eyes at himself. They hadn't even left the parking lot at Harvelle's, and here he was thinking about sex again. It would have to wait, but then, as Dean had suggested just before they'd arrived here an almost infinitely long time ago, there was always road head. Sam laughed out loud in happy anticipation of the look on Dean's face when he told him the reason for his laughter. 

Doc Charlie had taken his stitches out this morning. He'd warned Sam that his arm would be sore for another while but that he was ready for 'easy' hunting. Sam's and Charlie's definitions of an easy hunt were unlikely to coincide, but the doctor's verdict had mollified the mother-hen Ellen and -- the much worse -- mother-chicken Jo and convinced them that Sam and Dean were well enough to resume life out from under their wings.

Not that Sam had minded staying with them. It had been a much-needed time for rest and recovery. However, the looks the brothers had been given had turned more and more curious over the time. Clearly, this had to do with what Sam and Dean did behind locked doors, and particularly their noises that wouldn't be stopped by a locked door. Not that their hosts had moral issues with the two of them being _together_ together -- quite the opposite, they were happy for them -- but the knowledge of being overheard still made Sam blush every time. Dean seemed to enjoy this fact a little too much for Sam's comfort, but Sam knew that his brother also couldn't wait to get away, to be alone with Sam.

Ash had found them a poltergeist not too far away, and that was where they were headed. And afterwards, there'd be a motel room. That, too, would have thin walls, but at least nobody they knew resided on the other side of said walls. 

Sam couldn't wait until they'd finally be on their own. He and Dean had become intimately familiar with their bodies again, had caught up on what they hadn't done since their teenage years; however, there was the one step they hadn't taken. Yet. Sam felt his dick surge and a delicious flutter at his hole. Knowing that Dean was yearning for this as well, he had his own theory about whether they'd get rid of Sam's virginity or the poltergeist first.

The thought made him laugh again. Dean turned his head and raised his eyebrows, but Sam shook his head. "If you want to know what I'm thinking off, tell me your thoughts first."

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Dean's thoughts were probably enough to make a whore blush, but there was nothing new there. He rather took pride in his filthy mind. The look on Sam's face hinted that whatever had made him laugh was probably not very pure, either. Just being back in his beloved car after more than a week's hiatus would probably have been sufficient for him to pop wood. Being close to Sam almost always had that effect, never mind how often and well they'd gotten each other off in the last 10 days. Both -- he ruefully wondered if it would always be like this. How would they ever complete a job again? And Sam wanted to know what was on his mind?? 

"Oh. Nothing much. Just... How good it is to be on the road again. Ellen and Jo about smothered me! And, of course, how to get rid of the monster... thing. Not like we haven't killed a hundred poltergeists apiece. And then," Dean glanced sideways, "there's de-hymenating you. That's kind of on my mind." He outright leered. There was a familiar delicious wrenching tickle low in his gut, along with a warm throb of his groin. No one was around to see or hear them now -- he could do what he wanted. Well, he'd wait till Sam wanted it, was out of his mind for it. The anticipation was going to make this hunt endless, no matter how routine. 

Sam shot him a look that told Dean everything he needed to know. While Dean never slacked in regards to hunting, Sam no doubt wondered if this would be the exception. There was want in those slanted hazel eyes, and there was fear, too. As close as they were, and despite the fact they'd already indulged in almost everything up to the point of actual sex, it was a big step. Dean would never say that out loud as if he were some chick that there would be no going back. As he'd told Sam when he'd been so out of it, he would not hurt him. Refused. 

After the few seconds of introspection, Dean slapped the cocky grin back on his face. "Okay, your turn now. Give it up." 

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"Um, pretty much the same as you." Sam still couldn't help the silly and happy grin that was plastered on his face. "Poltergeist. You. Or, rather, you and then poltergeist."

Since they'd planned to leave early, there hadn't been sex in the morning, and Sam was hard. At this rate, he wondered if they'd ever get a job done if it lasted more than, say, a few hours, or if their need would distract them from the job. Now, there was a scary thought. Sam pushed it firmly away, telling himself that they could share a quick handjob before they set out for the actual hunt. On the other hand...

"Dean," Sam wondered why his voice had turned so husky all of a sudden, "Ash said this thing is mainly a nuisance but not a real danger, right? So, do you think that, um, maybe, we could, er..." Squirming in his seat, he was aware of Dean's bemused look, but was there also a hint of annoyance in it? Maybe Dean thought that Sam wasn't serious enough about the hunt?

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"That's what Ash said, yeah. You never know." The low, longing half-moan in Sam's voice all but undid him. His brother was clearly, Dean could tell without seeing, in the same state he was: heart pounding and dick filling fast. He had to reach down and adjust himself or risk damage. They'd never make it through the job without at least taking the edge off. Well, maybe they could, like athletes who abstained from sex as part of their training, to preserve energy and stamina. In the future, they could compare notes about that concept and determine if it fit into their lives, just... Not today. Smile turning up his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes, Dean looked over again. 

Sam was slouched in his seat, legs splayed out, his tangy pheromones filling the car, eyes running over Dean like he was candy. His right hand was playing with the window roller handle, pure porn, thumb circling the round button at the end. On the seat, the first two fingers of his left hand traced up and down the lines of stitching. Dean could have pulled onto some side road and done him right there. Hadn't he done that with how many nameless women over the course of his life? But there was that thought, that Sam deserved better -- _they_ deserved better, at least a bed for making love the first time. He had no qualms about getting busy within Baby's protective shell at a later date. 

Everything was so different now, since they had finally admitted their true desires -- kind of belatedly, having already acted on them. He had had to be nearly out of his mind with worry and pain and pissed as hell at Sam for acting like Dean had accused him of abuse, then backing off as a way to try and throw him off Sam's own true feelings, before he'd confessed. It turned out that Sam had been equally unable to deal with it. Since their youth, Dean kept it -- badly -- at bay by slutting around, drinking way too much, hustling, random acts of violence under the guise of hunting, and general risky behavior. Sam had shut down his sexual side, then just plain run. Then, once California was behind him, he'd resorted to taking uppers to try to avoid even spilling anything in his sleep. 

They had been so stupid. So many years wasted. Dean could only hope that the long denial served to fuel the fire between them now. So far, it had. They'd been like kids again, rediscovering every hot spot and inch of skin on each other's bodies. As to that, as a man opposed to a gangly 15-year-old, there all kinds of new -- bigger, harder, filled-out -- inches to Sam. That was hot, but underneath that was still his little brother, _his Sammy_. 

Instead of self-hatred and guilt over being in love with and wanting a person that it was beyond wrong to ever touch like that, the same brother he'd been charged with taking care of when he was four years old and for whom he would lie, cheat, steal or kill -- or tell the whole truth -- Dean was cautiously optimistic for once. And, it seemed like Sam was, too. At least they weren't hiding from each other. 

He nearly laughed at the equivocation and implications in Sam's questions; he was much more vocal about things, usually. "What, Sam? We're not going hunting till this is settled." But they would have to drive there, at the very minimum. "Tell me..." He couldn't get his voice above a whisper. "What do you want me to do to you, Sammy, hm?" 

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When Dean looked at him, kind of speculatively, Sam immediately felt insecure again. Why, he couldn't tell. However, he'd hidden his love for his brother so deeply for all those long years that he still couldn't believe that Dean returned his feelings. Every time he closed his eyes or looked in another direction, Sam feared that it had just been a dream. His brain whispered to him that he'd been running a high fever for days and that he'd just been hallucinating. It made sense to him, and as much as he tried to shut the voice up, a dark side inside him wanted to hear it, wanted to believe. 

Or maybe it wasn't a dark part of his soul, but one that tried to protect him from being disappointed -- again? Like when Dean had put an end to their pleasure when they'd been teens? Even if these past ten days hadn't been a fevered dream, maybe Dean had only given in to Sam's desires because he'd been so ill? Sort of granting a dying man his last wish?

But no, when Sam looked at his brother, he saw the happiness shining off Dean. It was more than the smile on these sensuous lips and the crinkle around the eyes: Dean's whole body was radiating joy. He sat upright and relaxed, not slumped in the seat as so often. Then, there was the bulge in his jeans that mirrored the one in Sam's. Suddenly, Sam wasn't afraid any longer. Dean really wanted him, loved him, desired him. And then...

_"Tell me... What do you want me to do to you, Sammy, hm?"_

The question hit him right in the center of where his libido must be controlled from. Sam groaned. "If you want me to tell you," he swallowed, "you'd better stop the car."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh hell yeah, I want you to..." Dean reluctantly shifted his eyes back to the road, scanning for a side track or abandoned farmstead, anything. After a quarter mile of heavy breathing from both of them, Dean saw a gravel road leading off, soon cresting a hill where no one would be able to see them, from the main two-lane highway. As long as it didn't lead into someone's yard, it would be perfect. 

There was nothing on the other side of the hill but countryside and a long ribbon of gravel leading off into the distance. Dean pulled the Impala onto an approach to someone's pasture gate and let it idle. "You're killing me..." He turned sideways. Sam stared into his eyes, lips slack and puffy, the upper one pulled into the half-snarl the meant he was probably leaking... A glance down told Dean how hard Sam was. The thick ridge of his dick angled toward his hip under the denim button fly. Damn, if that wasn't sexy. He returned his eyes to Sam's, licked his lips, mouth suddenly flooded with drool. Gods, his brother was gorgeous, smooth-shaven and smooth-skinned, that long neck, the little moles he could map in his sleep. If Sam didn't watch it, they'd be done just from staring at each other, it was that intense.

"What, Sam? I wanna know all the dirty little things you've pictured. Everything." Dean was no stranger to using the lower registers of his voice. "Sammy..." Squirming a little, he palmed his own erection in plain sight. "See what you do to me?" 

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Seeing Dean palming himself, Sam feared for a moment that he'd drown in his own drool. "Yes," he whispered. "And what you do to me." He knew better than to bring his hands anywhere near his groin as that would result in him instantly losing it.

"Dean," Sam said hoarsely, swallowing not only once but twice. "For starters, the next time I cum, I want it to be with you deep inside me."

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Perhaps he was expecting a 1-900- version of Sam's most private and kinky fantasies, but his response was something else again. A burning surge filled him. "Oh, god!" Dean slammed the heel of his hand down against the base of his cock, or he'd have been done. "I-- Fuck, Sam," he groaned. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants!" 

He shouldn't have stopped, should've just kept driving. "Do you want to lose your virginity in this car or not?" Dean demanded. He was about two seconds away from making a grab for Sam, claiming his mouth, pushing him down on the seat, stripping him, and giving it to him. "'Cuz I want it to be right... I'd rather suck you off if you can't wait. And don't worry about how bad you want your tight little hole filled 'cuz I've got fingers," he wiggled them at Sam, feeling a bit silly for that. "But if I touch you, or you touch me, I will be making sure we both get off. However that is. Hands, mouths, or... Whatever. Choose, Sam. Right now." Dean was the idiot who'd thought they could tease each other with words when it was this hot between them. He pulled in a gasping breath. "Just make sure... Ah, shit, I fucking love you. Don't want it to be anything less than... perfect." 

Yeah, if there was such a thing. His cock was an iron bar, his eyes were watering. He was babbling. Dean had a clear idea of how he wanted to do it, but it wasn't just his party. If Sam wanted this -- here and now -- he would. After all, he -- they -- would only bust his cherry once. 

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"Dean." Sam's brain had turned into mush long ago, but this was important to his brother -- and to him as well. However much they loved each other and acted on their love, a first time was special. Not in the sense that society considered losing one's virginity, although Sam agreed that it was a rite of passage. No, for him it was much more. A sign of the ultimate trust and love Sam had for his brother. He'd never even think of letting anyone other than Dean into his body.

A stab of jealousy hit him when he remembered that Dean had had his first time entering another man while Sam had been close to dying only a few rooms away. He swallowed the thought down, wanting nothing to spoil their moment. It helped with his erection, though, and Sam felt a little more in control of himself now.

"Dean," he groaned again. "If you can't wait, I'll make you cum so hard that you won't know what hit you, but I'm not getting off now. Let me clarify: the next time I cum, it'll be with your _dick_ inside me."

Sam drew a shaky breath. "So either you get out of your jeans this second, or you drive as if we have the devil on our tails so we can find a bed before our juices start dripping from our ears!"

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This was torture. Sure, it was sweet, dirty, sensual, but still torture. Dean groaned when Sam told him he'd get him off if he needed it -- wasn't that what he'd just said? -- but was saving his own release for when they would be together. But he had also said that if Sam so much as touched him, there would be no turning back. So he didn't reach out, not yet. His balls hurt now, it was official. By the time they got anywhere, he was going to be unpresentable.

If he couldn't touch with his hands, then with his eyes. Running his gaze over Sam one last time, taking in his labored breathing, flushed face, spread legs and the obvious bulge at his crotch, Dean gasped, "No, I'll wait, too. Try not to cum in your pants, and I'll do the same. Let's get the fuck out of here!"

He put Baby in gear and made a U-turn, spraying gravel behind them when he hit the gas and peeled out. Even if he sped the entire way, it would still be over an hour's drive to where they needed to go. Somehow, they'd have to distract themselves. He tried to think of different ways they'd done away with poltergeists before -- salt, sage, religious symbols, and confrontation. Of course, he hadn't been packing wood the size of a sequoia any of those times.

The only fly in the ointment, so to speak, barring them not being able to control themselves long enough for Dean to actually be inside Sam before one or both of them lost it, was that Dean had been with someone else first. Sam had figured it out immediately that night. While he'd been perfectly cordial to Ash the few times they'd been in the same room afterwards, Dean wondered about how the fact of this rattled around in Sam's head. Maybe he should just leave sleeping dogs lie. At the Roadhouse, he'd been mostly concerned about the subject not coming up, and it hadn't. The last thing Dean wanted was for them to get into a fight now, of all times.

Since he couldn't seem to think of anything to say, and it was helping his cock to go down, Dean didn't force his brain to change topic. It had been a good distraction after Ellen and Charlie tossed him out of their makeshift clinic, and Ash was a hot lay, but he wasn't Sam. No doubt Ash would make a hell of a mate for someone, someday. Dean had found his already, though. At the time, they had still been embroiled in a web of doubt, denial, and self-loathing, sure that each was the only one with feelings they eventually discovered were mutual, sure the other would walk away in disgust and hatred if it were revealed. That was how Dean worked out -- eventually -- that Sam was worth waiting for. Today was an extension of the same concept. But Sam, he was the one who'd had Dean's first go taken away from him.

Another thing: there was no question about who would be inside whom -- Sam had been explicit about that much. He loved Dean to play with his ass, slip his tongue or finger inside. From early on, when he'd been just 13 years old, touching his hole had always been enough to jolt him into orgasm. As an adult, he was still as sensitive, and while he'd never let anyone but Dean do it to him, something that nearly brought tears to his brother's eyes to hear, his inside sweet spot being stroked was so intense for Sam that he would grunt and flail, his eyes would roll back, that whole muscular body quivering till he came and then collapsing back as he sprayed himself in jets of semen.

No one got to see him like that, no one but Dean. As much as he got off on _Sam's_ pleasure, Dean could not see himself, now or ever, letting Sam do that to him. He wasn't homophobic -- how could he be? His lover was a man. He didn't find it gross. He just... didn't want it -- emphatically. Someday soon, Sam was going to want that. Both because he was a man, and men fucked -- did the taking, and because he would want to give Dean something that felt so incredible to Sam. And, he would want to possess his brother's body, penetrate him, claim him as his own, thrust inside him and mark him up inside with his cum... all those things Dean desired to do to Sam. It wouldn't be fair to refuse him.

But... what if he couldn't? There were still lingering patches of darkness, still scars. Things had happened before Sam had hit puberty. Hustling that got out of hand. However much John comprehended, was more than he wanted to. The topic never came up, not once. Their dad lived in a constant delusion over what he had done to Mary's children. A little rape in the name of a room for the night, salt and gunpowder, gas for Baby and milk for Sammy, well, what was that? Just one more thing Dean had sacrificed for his family.

Lost in thought, Dean stared at the road hurtling past. The speedometer read 120. He looked over at Sam. His brother was quietly watching him. Dean just nodded. 

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"Oh god," Sam groaned, grabbing the base of his cock and squeezing as hard as he could. It brought tears to his eyes but the move bought him time. They were doing 120, which in itself was a sign that Dean felt the pressure as much as Sam. Otherwise, Dean wouldn't have kicked his Baby this hard. As it was, Sam never stopped being amazed what kind of performance his brother could coax out of the old girl, but he wasn't going to complain. The sooner they got behind locked doors, the better. 

If they even made it that far. The poltergeist's 'home' was more than an hour away, even at their current speed. Sam could only hope that there was some place on the way -- or that they'd suddenly grow a Saint's patience. He didn't consider it likely. 

A thought occurred to Sam. "Dean," he panted, "once we're there," wherever 'there' might turn out to be, "do we have something to, um, ease the way?"

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"Wha--?" Sam's voice jolted Dean back to the present. He considered that a win. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam squirming. It was like he was rubbing his butt on the seat... Like a bitch, dragging its rear end on the ground to try and scratch the itch. Jeez, what next? Considering the rush of blood from upstairs brain to downstairs brain, it took Dean a moment to register what Sam had asked him. ... _something to ease the way_. "Um, oh! You mean lube, right? Not to worry, I raided Doc Charlie's stores."

That got him a weird look. The doctor had been more than generous with restocking their basic medical kit. They'd been totally out of antibiotics and pain killers, other than the over the counter stuff, and low on everything else. Dean had left their one scalpel and forceps in the hotel room where he'd had to dig the bullet out of Sam's bicep. Now, thanks to Charlie, they had enough stuff for several more emergency... he couldn't call that surgery, more like butchery. "He had me work on his car, that was the trade-off for treating you, and he threw in some things -- gauze, tape, various and sundry bandages, pills, new tools -- for the kit. When he was digging around in his cabinets, I noticed that he had plenty of KY in one. Don't ask me why, I don't want to know! But anyway, I filched some," he elaborated to Sam, grinning again. "I've got a big ol' tube of it in my duffel, and a couple of these tiny little packets in my wallet."

So far, they'd made do with spit and pre-cum. Having 'real' lube would be a luxury, as well as absolutely essential. Sam could take two of his fingers before it got uncomfortable for him, three if Dean went super-slow and opened him up incrementally with the help of his tongue. Not to brag, but Dean's cock wasn't exactly small. The thing had a mind of its own. A man could only take so much. So yeah, they were going to make very good use of it. "I felt like I was 14 or something, sneaking in there to steal it. Well, it's not a sex toy but it's about sex. Maybe sometime we can get the flavored stuff," he winked. "Not that I mind your taste." 

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"You... what?" Sam shook his head and groaned. "Now they'll all know what we're up to. Well, not that it will surprise anyone, I guess. You know, I'm feeling kind of guilty for ripping Charlie off. I mean, we pretty much emptied his supplies anyway, and now he's even out of lube. But good thinking on your side," he grinned. 

Sam squirmed in his seat. They were really going to do it. Ever since he'd first heard about men having sex with each other, he'd wanted Dean to do this for him. He remembered the night when he'd been thirteen and Dean had come home earlier than expected and walked in on Sam fingering his hole. That had been not much after they'd started bringing each other off, and he'd already desired his brother back then. Taking his virginity was the only thing Dean had ever denied him. When Sam had hinted at it, Dean had set him up with a hooker, and refused to touch him any longer. Sam had hung on to his feelings, but when Dean kept denying him even after he reached legal age, Sam had tried to cut his losses and left for Stanford... And now, years later, Dean was finally ready to give Sam what he craved -- and he admitted to craving it himself, had done so all these years. 

"I remember you when you were 14," Sam said trying to change the topic. They'd never make it to a motel otherwise. "Always thought you were more into raiding Dad's guns and liquor than stealing sex toys. Apparently, there are still things I don't know about you," he grinned.

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"Yeah? At 14 I was way into... Trying to be a hunter. Learning every weapon, fighting styles, getting the rockin' bod, being a bad-ass. And I'd never heard of most of the stuff," Dean waggled his eyebrows so Sam would catch the context, "that we know about now. In less that a year, I went from just over 5 feet tall, to almost 6 feet when I was a freshman. And yeah, girls -- and boys -- were looking at me. Lost my virginity, with a chick, I mean, that year. And naturally, Dad gave me all those talks, too. 'Don't get close to people; don't make friends. Don't get VD.'" He snorted. "I dunno. I suppose I always listened. Really, I should've paid more attention to the lore, learned all those languages. Had to do it on the fly as we got older... heard it's easier, the younger you, are to learn languages. I was the oldest, just had it imprinted or trained that I had to be obedient and responsible. It wasn't easy, living like that. You know, better than anyone. I'm not bitter or anything. But when I thought I had to stop with you, and when you left... After that, I didn't care. Not about anything. Shooting things, getting in fights, smoking too much weed and... other things." 

Baby was purring like an overly large feline cub, so Dean kept the pedal to the floor. "What do you want to know about me at 14, or any age? Ask. I'll tell you." If they could talk about normal things, or what passed as normal for them, the time might pass more quickly. It was rare that Dean got in any sort of mood to open up, he mused. Sam better appreciate his opportunity. If there was time, he might have some questions, too.

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Sam leaned back and smiled as he listened to Dean talking. It was rare that his brother was in a mood to share, and it felt good, right until...

_"But when I thought I had to stop with you, and when you left..."_

Something deep inside Sam froze. Dean had never explained why he'd pushed Sam away, and until now, Sam had never asked. However, suddenly, he had to know. As if he'd read Sam's thought, Dean offered, _"What do you want to know about me at 14, or any age? Ask. I'll tell you."_

"Why..." Sam's mouth was so dry that he had to swallow before he could ask the question. "Why did you think you had to stop it with me?"

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There it was, one of the big questions. Dean had figured that someday Sam would ask him about it. He had been, if not necessarily expecting it, for the last 10 days, then no longer locked in tight secrecy over it. That didn't make the answering of it any easier. 

"Many reasons, Sam. I'm not saying any of them were right or good, but... Number one reason was that you'd been begging for it. You know. You were ready. And I... I was afraid I wouldn't be able to fight the temptation any longer. 'Cuz I wanted it so bad. To take you, Sam. To roll you over and fuck into your willing little virgin ass. But... You were only 15! If I had... I was afraid you'd be damaged, tainted your whole life, doomed to this highly illegal, illicit travesty of love with your brother, who should have known better." Dean could tell by the hitch in Sam's respirations and the tense movements he was making that he was about to protest.

"No, let me finish. And I DO know what it sounds like. Anyway, I couldn't let that happen. You needed to have a chance, to know something besides hunting. Someone besides me. At the time, I don't think I could've stood up to Dad about it. He was always making little digs about me being a slut. If he'd had any idea that I'd touched you, much less... He'd have taken me out and shot me. We'd done a damned good job of keeping it quiet, Sam. He never knew. I swear he didn't, or he'd have said something when he... died. So there was the thing where we kept it on lock but if we had been together, I couldn't have any longer. I always needed someone of my own to love, and if," Jesus Christ, he was going to fucking cry. Dean cleared his throat and blinked back tears. His heart was pounding like it was about to give out. "If we'd started when you were so young, well, what kind of life was that, to be tied to someone you're not supposed to be, who has this compulsion to let everyone know you belong to him? Now, I mean, it's still what it is but you chose it. And I could give a fuck what anyone thinks." Almost angrily, Dean swiped at the left side of his face.

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A wave of pain rolled over Sam as the memories flooded him. He'd thought he'd wanted to know -- he'd been wrong. He wasn't ready for the honest truth Dean had just told him. Deep inside, he'd hoped there would have been a reason that he could comprehend. While Sam's brain could follow Dean's argumentation, his heart couldn't take it, couldn't accept the pain and loss they'd both suffered. The way Dean had just cleared his throat told Sam that his brother was far from over it, too. He knew it was a mistake to open his mouth, but he couldn't keep the thoughts in unless he was going to choke on them.

"Dean, when you refused to touch me, to let me touch you, to come anywhere near you. Dean, I... was broken. The night I left, I had to run because otherwise I was going to kill myself."

Sam was torn between looking at Dean and looking away. At their current speed, any distraction could be fatal, regardless how good a driver Dean was. But he couldn't stop himself.

"I want you. I need you. I need you all over me and in me. Just like I did then. Only one thing has changed. Back then, I thought I couldn't live without you. Now I know that I can't live without you. I choose you. Forever."

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"You have me, Sam. You'll have me, all of me. On you and in you. Okay? I can't tell you how much I wish that it had been different. That we hadn't, hadn't caused that kind of pain." His apology was stilted, and Dean knew it. Just when he needed them most, words failed him. Typical. "We're together now. Sorry for the chick-flick moment." Dean rolled his shoulders and moved his head side to side like a wrestler. He grimaced in Sam's direction. "Bet you're sorry you opened that can of worms, huh?" 

It would have been easy to erect the wall again, so he didn't have to hear that Sam had been so messed up by Dean's 'rejection' he'd been ready to take his own life over it. Dean's intentions had been good, honorable. They had! He had never once thought that Sam, after he'd been with -- what was her name? Ariel? Arianna? -- wouldn't turn out anything but "normal". Straight. Dean was sure that Sam would forget all about their explorations and find himself a nice girl or twenty to lay or love and... Well, who knew? It hadn't gone that way, and Dean had made the wrong choice, hadn't he? But it couldn't be helped now. 

"So when you got to California, and you and Jess hooked up...? How did that work? I mean, were you and she, you know...? Everything worked okay?"

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"Actually, no, I'm glad you brought it up," Sam sighed. "Dean... Sooner or later, it would have come back to, well, haunt us. All the time, I thought you didn't want me anymore, and now I know it's because you tried to protect me. It doesn't make the hurt undone, but I understand you." He smiled weakly. "And I love you for it."

Then Dean asked him about California and Jess. Sam went silent. For a long time, he'd tried to process what had happened during that period, before coming to the conclusion that he'd lied to himself the whole time.

"I went to Stanford because I needed something to fill the emptiness in my soul," he said slowly. "Dean, I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm fine now. But you asked." 

Sam moistened his lips before elaborating. "It was... so different from everything I'd known until then. I had friends. People liked me and I liked them because for the first time in my life I stayed long enough to get to know them. When Brady introduced me to Jess... I wanted a normal life so badly, Dean. For a while I though I'd escaped. And then..."

He swallowed. Sam would never stop feeling guilty over Jess's death and his betrayal of her that had led to it.

"I hated you after you came to get me and she... died. Again, I had lost everything, and I blamed you for it, just like the first time. But then, I came to understand that it had been me all along. My misperception of everything. I wanted to believe in the apple-pie life Stanford and Jess represented. Deep down, though, I've always known that it wasn't for me. That I wasn't that person."

Sam looked at Dean. "That there's only one life I really want. And that's at your side."

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It didn't feel nice to hear Sam say he'd hated Dean, temporary or not. But that was the reality. Belonging to normal society, getting married, settling down and having kids, that had never entered Dean's mind other than to scoff at it, or to be mildly condescending about it around people to whom it was so important. That was why hunters were called to jobs, after all: something was disrupting people's idyllic little lives and needed dealing with. From the looks Dean had had into those average citizens' lives, he figured they were fucking deluding themselves. There was abuse, secrets, financial problems, drinking, cheating, people trying to rip each other off... Just like hunters only they had more money and houses and looked respectable from the outside. 

"I... I'm sorry," Dean said again, feeling lame. "When I showed up to collect you so we could search for Dad, the anger and... hatred... came off you in waves. Surprised you didn't knife me right there. And I didn't blame you. Dad had been keeping an eye on you, and by extension, I had, too. You seemed to be fitting in to that life. But Sam, if you'd gone full normal... I'd probably have never seen you again, you know? Or, turned up every few years, provided I was still alive so we could look at each other and hate how it all turned out. The grubby low-life hunter and the rich, snob attorney. If I hadn't gotten you out then... It seemed like 'now or never'."

As melancholy as most of what Sam had said made him, the last part, _"there's only one life I want... by your side."_ lightened his heart. "Sammy." What was there but him? His love. "You're mine." There was still no touching because of where would prematurely lead. But he could look, and Dean did, running his eyes by little increments over Sam's face, his body, checking the road every few seconds. 

The farms were closer together now, and Dean slowed a bit. If they got pulled over now, he might commit a few felonies to get them away. Sure enough, when he looked into the distance next time, he saw signs of a town. "Look..." He jerked his chin in that direction. "I bet there's a motel there. Wanna stop? 'Cuz I think we need to." It wasn't the town with the poltergeist but he no longer cared. During the week while Sam recovered, Dean had made a few hundred off pool games. He was plenty willing to drop some of it right now. 

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"I wasn't fair to you, Dean," Sam said. "I didn't know what you sacrificed for me. But even if you hadn't gotten me out of there, I don't think I'd have ever made it. A normal life, I mean. Or maybe, if I had, I'd have woken up one morning with my wife and kids and dog, and realized that it had all been a huge fuck-up. Only, then it would have been too late to return to you. My anger and hatred were aimed at you, but in reality, I hated myself at least as much as I thought I hated you."

There was a lump in Sam's throat the size of Dean. "How could I even think I hated you? You were all I ever had, Dean. Yes, I'm yours, just as you are mine." He took a deep breath. "And if you're not going to stop at the next possible motel or whatever, we're both going to die of blue balls, and all the soul-baring will have been for nothing."

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"Death by blueballs," Dean snorted a laugh. "NOT my idea of a good time. Dunno if mine are even blue right now. What's blue-er than that? Purple? Pretty crazy, since we fooled around last night." Yes, they had. Sam had sucked on his -- balls -- till Dean had begged for release, not in words but in hitching gasps and writhing his hips, then swallowed the head of his dick. Sam's huge hand had wrapped around the shaft like a Christmas toy and pulled, jerked over the fluttering veins while his thumb flicked the little triangle right at the ridge 'V'. It had taken all of five seconds and Dean had whined like a little bitch as his load exploded from him. At least he'd been able to appreciate without the dire need to get off, how Sam had flopped on his back, legs bent and spread while Dean did him the same, other than he'd mastered swallowing and squeezed Sam's glans within an inch of its life while he played the foreskin in his mouth. He wouldn't have been surprised if Sam's throaty groans vibrated the foundations of the building.

"Dammit, I shouldn't have mentioned it. Now my dick's hard again. How am I supposed to get a room packing that?" Dean felt loopy now. It was freeing. They were going to. Finally. He tried not to plan or visualize. Spontaneous had always been good enough -- beyond good, and why mess with a good thing? Once they hit a posted speed zone, he took his foot off the pedal; the Impala slowed gradually. There were the city limits. A trailer park, a liquor store, some warehouses... a motel. The Stardust. How many "Stardusts" had they even stayed in? There had to be a few in every state. Well, they'd never been in this one. It looked typical. Not great but not a total rat-hole. Outside doors, ice machine, pop machine, looked like it had been remodeled in the last ten years. Probably no Magic Fingers, then. Oh, well. He'd be hitting a totally different kind of pleasure button today. 

He had to stop panting like that. The motel people would think he was on something. Something besides adrenaline, pheromones and testosterone, that was. Dean pulled up in front of the office. He almost always took care of booking the room anyway, so he got out of the car, adjusting himself and his clothes, and sauntered as casually has he could into the office. A teenaged boy got his info, flipping his eyebrows over Dean's response to "king or two queens," but kept his mouth shut. Key in hand, Dean returned to the car and drove them down to the end. This time, they weren't both seriously injured and they had a definite goal in mind, but it was weirdly deja vu-ish of the motel they'd stayed in for half a day, beat to hell, Sam feverish, and Dean had given him a bath. That fateful day. Only 10 days ago. A lot had changed.

Out again, in front of their own door. Dean supposed they'd better at least take their clothes and weapons inside, as usual. He doubted either of them would be too keen on ducking out later, and frankly, he felt more naked without his guns to hand then he did, actually naked. Sam jumped out of his side and they grabbed their stuff, Dean leading off to their door and Sam pressing in close behind him. Dean could feel the heat coming off Sam; every little hair on his body stood up. His hand was steady, though. Once inside, Dean tossed his bags on the nearest chair and shut the door firmly behind Sam, who simply dropped his duffels to the floor. 'Sam's about to get his wish,' Dean thought to himself before he was on his brother. Pushing him back against the door with a satisfying thud, Dean kicked Sam's legs apart, threading his fingers into the long strands to pull his head down, and kissed him. Lips, tongue, suction, lick, hot and slick and messy, grinding against his brother's hip, their hard cocks trapped between. "God, Sam... how are we gonna make it? I could cum right now!"

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"The 'Stardust', huh?" Sam chuckled a little nervously. Not that he was afraid, but this was something he'd been yearning for all his life since hitting puberty. "You gonna make me see stars, I'm sure of it." He groaned and rolled his eyes at this lame reply, but with the amount of blood pooling in his groin it was no surprise that he couldn't come up with something better.

Dean was in exactly the same desperate state. Sam had to suppress the laughter as his brother walked -- or whatever term could be used to describe his strained gait -- over the reception. When he returned to the car, Sam could easily make out the bulge even behind several layers of shirts that Dean had artfully arranged to cover it up. His eyes bugged. He wanted to get his hands, his mouth, his fucking asshole on that goodness now.

The short drive -- too short to be called a drive, really, and still it was too long -- to the end of the row of rooms was delicious torture. Knowing that he was about to receive what he'd been praying for all this time made Sam even think of the 'drive' as a sort of foreplay. And then...

They got out of the car. Dean insisted on grabbing their stuff from the trunk with Sam plastered to his backside, fidgeting. It was probably a good idea to take their gear along right now, but every second of delay was too much. Was Dean doing this to him on purpose?

Once inside the room, though, Dean was all over him almost before they'd even dropped their luggage. Suddenly finding himself pressed back against the door, Sam moaned and gasped as he was mauled by Dean's body. His brother was licking, kissing, devouring him while thrusting against Sam's hip so hard that Sam doubted Dean could hold out for even another five seconds. His estimate was confirmed almost immediately when Dean asked how they were gonna make it, as he was about to cum.

"Two ways to go," he hissed. "A really, really cold shower or we hurry the hell up getting naked and..." Sam had to swallow. Even saying the words would be too much.

Sam pushed Dean away from him, instantly regretting the loss of friction against his groin, but relieved as well. "Get rid of this," he panted and started pushing Dean's shirts up -- had his fingers ever been so clumsy before?

"Gods, Dean, I need you now!"

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"Cold shower will only help while we're in it," Dean hissed. Trails of fire where Sam's fingers brushed his skin led to his crotch, the throbbing there urgent. Stepping backward as far as the bed, he looked into Sam's darkened eyes and pulled off his shirts. His skin itched; just the air touching it was sensory overload. Maybe he wasn't as ripped as his brother, but Dean knew he was nothing to sneeze at. In the cooler room air, his nipples tightened into tiny pink points. Erected. Hurt and stung, just like his heavy, blood-filled cock, far below. 

"Sam, need you, too... So much!" Why was this taking so long? Every breath, every heartbeat, was another repetition of 'too long'. Dean sat and wrestled off his boots in five seconds. Looking up, he saw Sam working on his clothes, too. "Get over here -- get on this bed and let me do that." He grinned up into his brother's face and reached out, grabbing him by the belt. "Every little bit of skin -- that's for me to strip." With quick fingers, if a little clumsy, Dean yanked the buckle of Sam's everyday brown belt open. The clinking of the metal parts went directly to his auditory stores of arousing sounds. But there were more he needed to hear. And then their other senses... 

Dean licked a stripe up Sam's bare belly as he opened his bulging fly, nearly pulling the buttons out in his haste. There, covered by soft cotton still, Sam's hard length which pulsed and moved on its own toward his hand. Ah, the scent -- aroused as hell Sam, musk and pre-cum, and he was soaking through his boxers with it. "God, Sam, look at you... gotta taste..." Pushing Sam's jeans and boxers down, Dean allowed himself a lick to the exposed head, so sweet with shiny juice. His own dick jumped in his pants and blurted moisture. He looked up the long, muscled torso, saw Sam's ribs rising and falling as he panted, his lips swollen. 

But he needed so much more..."C'mon, your hands, your hands on me, please!" Pulling Sam along with him, Dean wiggled up the bed and held open his arms. His entire body felt electrified, swollen. Their top halves anyway were skin to skin, a tangle of arms, hard chest to hard chest. They aligned and before anything else, Dean took Sam's mouth again, lips stroking against his love's. "Sammy..."

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"You're right, of course," Sam groaned as he fought with his shoes. He was beginning to doubt that a cold shower would 'help' at all, but even if it would, the effect wouldn't last. Dean helped him with his belt and his jeans, then licked at the tip of Sam's dick. Sam threw his head back and howled. Dean's tongue sent shock waves of fiery need through him. "Yes, yes!"

Dean asked to be touched and pulled him down on the bed. Sam rolled off him so that they were lying on their sides facing each other, their chests skin against overheated skin. He was going to combust in a few seconds. Then Dean kissed him again, not hard and plundering as they usually kissed in their passion, but soft and gentle. Sam melted into it, the urge from his groin strangely tempered by the tender and loving graze of his brother's lips against him.

"Sammy..."

"Dean..." Sam whispered, awestruck by the love that shone from Dean's eyes. He touched his forehead to Dean's and let himself drink in the handsome rugged face, the open lips and wide eyes. 

"Dean, please," Sam's voice was husky and he kissed those gorgeous lips once more. "Please make love to me."

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"Mmmm... yeah, going to," Dean moaned. He reached for his wallet, for the condom and packets of lube he'd stashed there which he placed on the mattress within easy reach, then, fingers shaking, undid his belt and fly and kicked out of the rest of his clothes. "C'mere, Sammmm..." He'd been gentle before but not now. Dean closed his eyes and lunged at Sam's pink, lush mouth, sealing them together in an almost brutal kiss. He let his body arch and curl, his tongue following the motion into Sam's warm mouth, where he was met stroke for stroke, and almost immediately Dean rolled on top of his brother's long frame. It was instinct. "Oh... want... want..." he panted between kisses. All that gorgeous skin, and he couldn't keep his hands off. Okay, maybe he was pawing at Sam and pinching his nipples too hard but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Forever, he'd held back in sex, sex with women anyway, and now he didn't have to. If he wanted Sam to stay in one place he had to hold him there, and Dean totally got off on his brother's strength and passion. Hips moving in little tight thrusts with their leaking cocks trapped, fucking vein to vein together, Dean nearly lost it when Sam pulled him down harder. 

Dean grabbed for his supplies, tearing open the lube and coating his fingers. He shifted to the side, gasping, "Fuck yeah!" at the look of trust and love and need in Sam's eyes even as he reached down, down to touch the hot, puckering skin of his hole. "Gonna be in you, baby..." The first slick finger slid inside with little resistance; they were both shaking and sweating. Dean added his middle finger and leaned down to bite Sam's collarbone, losing another spurt of precome when Sam tightened and pushed back against his hand. 

"Almost there..." Dean's patience was fraying but he wiggled his ring finger in through the ring muscle. Sam blinked, tensed, his breath shuddered out and again he relaxed enough to take it. It was good they'd had time to work up to it somewhat, in the last days. "Uuunngh, you're ready, gonna fuck you now, Sammy..." Dean had his own preferred vocabulary, but he remembered Sam's, too. "I mean," he reached for the condom, "make love to you..." He took the edge of the foil packet in his teeth, ready to tear it open.

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Dean hadn't exactly needed Sam's invitation, but now he really went at it, no holds barred. Sam lay back and moaned as Dean ravished him. His brother's firm body was pinning him down, and Sam couldn't get enough of it. Their lips crashed together, their tongues fighting over dominance until Dean started fucking Sam's mouth, and Sam was lost in moans and gasps. A keening sound escaped from him when Dean gave his nipples a few rough squeezes. It hurt, but he was so far gone in his passion that the pain morphed into pleasure somewhere on its way through his completely overwrought nervous system.

"Dean, yes, yes," was all that poured from Sam's mouth, interspersed with grunts and curses whenever Dean hit a particularly responsive spot on his body -- in his body. Somehow, he'd even missed that Dean had three fingers in him now, although he was pushing back and wiggling his hips, trying to get Dean's fingers to touch his secret place. Sam whined when the fingers were withdrawn, but it was probably just as well. So many times during these past days, Dean had made him cum with his fingers in Sam's hole without touching his dick at all. As much as Sam yearned for release, it was not the way he wanted to find it. Today, he'd cum from nothing else but having Dean's dick up his ass.

When he looked at his brother, he froze. Dean's eyes were wide and unfocused, and he was breathing hard. With kiss-swollen lips, Dean opened his mouth now to tear open the condom wrapper that he was holding in unsteady hands.

"W-wait." Sam's voice sounded harsh and raspy. "Do we... really want that between us?" He caught his breath. "I mean, you were always safe, right? And I, well, not since Jess, and I got tested before that." Sam squirmed a little. Dean would probably give him shit about that, but right now he didn't care. "So, if you used these things with everyone else..."

He swallowed. "I don't want anything between us when you take me for the first time." It was insane and Sam knew it, but compared to the everyday hazards of their job, the risk of catching something nasty was probably minor.

"Dean, please, I need to feel you!"

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"Yesss," Dean hissed, "I... I don't know... been a long time since I was stupid about it." He took a deep breath, trying to keep his head. Below him was his lover's body, ready to take him, all of him, bare. "Are you sure... I haven't been tested in years." Dean should've asked Charlie, but he didn't know if he was set up for that sort of thing. Too late now. Sam had swallowed his cum, had it smeared all over him, had had his mouth on just about every part of Dean's body. 

His little head was thinking for him. Dean became aware how he'd slid into place between Sam's legs, the round purple dome of his glans nudging up against Sam's rim. Sam's pupil's jumped -- he felt it, too! It wasn't just being there, about to have sex. The body below him was so goddamn perfect, not just to look at but the way Sam felt under him, holding him while his long, long legs spread around him. His blood surged, and his balls ached like he'd already shot but they were so full and heavy. So hot there, against him! Any second he was going to give in and fuck himself into that virgin hole... "If you want me to use this, tell me right now. Or I'll do it, Sam, I'll do it raw. Wanna feel you so tight around me." 

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Sam's eyes burned into Dean's and narrowed with absolute certainty.

"Do it."

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_"Do it."_ Hearing Sam say that like an order, in his deepest, bitten tone, Dean reached down to spread the last of the lube onto the overheated skin of his erection. 'No, not stroking it.' The flared head was already spreading out Sam's hole, the sight punching yet another spurt of clear fluid from deep inside Dean. Looking into his brother's slitted eyes, he let himself begin to push forward into that heat, the slicked inner surfaces like living silk around him, clasping the most sensitive surfaces of his body, his sex. "Oh yeah, Sam, oh yes, oh my fucking god... You're amazing, so good, so tight... Never had anything like this..." 

There was no way to keep silent. Dean became aware of the pornographic babble, the grunts and moans dribbling from him, but he couldn't shut it off. Every little slide farther in, farther up he kissed some part of Sam, licked at his chest, anything to distract him from the inevitable pain he must be feeling, as evidenced by the skin-splitting grip he had on Dean's arms. "I'm sorry... Don't mean to hurt you..." It was no use: he tried to stop but his hips began their dance again. With every thrust, he was able to go a little farther in, but it was no easy task. Sam had tipped his head far back, throat exposed, jut of Adam's apple pointing skyward. Just the utter submission of the pose slayed him, on top of allowing Dean into his body, the first and only man. "Love you, Sam, letting me break you like this, so fucking special." 

The guardian muscle was tight, too tight, and Dean was way bigger than three fingers -- how the hell would he ever fit all the way in? He was halfway there, stalled, cradled by his brother's thickly muscled thighs around his hips. Conflicting needs swirled through him: 'Take what is yours. Don't you dare hurt him. He wants it. It needs to be right.' Dean couldn't even look or he'd cum over the sight of that stretched rim hugging the swollen barrel of his cock. Sam's mouth was wide open, jaw pushed forward, and the sounds he made: thunder over honey, the bassiest purr ever. "Sammy... Look at me. Huh? Love you so much, baby brother.... Relax now, 'kay? Let me in..." 

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Thank goodness, Dean didn't linger. As soon as Sam had offered -- ordered him to 'do it', his brother lined up and pushed. 

It hurt. It. really. fucking. hurt. Being speared by Dean's dick was a totally different thing than three fingers. At the same time, Sam felt ridiculously proud that Dean was so well endowed. Dean was babbling, saying some stuff that Sam didn't quite catch, except that Dean was very obviously ecstatic, and that made the desire flare up in Sam again despite the pain.

Then Dean began touching him, licking and kissing every surface of Sam's body that he could reach, and soon enough, Sam threw his head back. He moaned with joy, hoping that Dean would never reach the point of being totally sheathed inside him, so that this would never stop. At the very least, he wanted to draw it out as long as he could. 

Dean seemed torn between the desire to be in Sam and the need to protect his little brother. He stalled mid-way. Sam was conflicted, too: on one hand, he wanted it to last forever, on the other hand he couldn't wait to have Dean all the way in him. He moaned and keened, shivered and rolled his hips in an attempt to make Dean's dick touch his sweet spot. Dean told him how much he loved Sam, asked him to relax, to let him in.

Sam swallowed, turning frantic with need. He released the iron grip he had on Dean's arms and pulled his brother down against his chest, letting out a low growl when Dean's firm abs rubbed against his aching dick. In reflex, Sam thrust up, desperate for the friction, then pushed down against Dean to urge him in deeper. He felt his tight muscle relax a little and Dean slid forward, echoing Sam's deep groan.

"That's it, Dean. Come on, man, just do it, I need you to fuck me." Sam was babbling, too, now, as the pressure in his ass increased. "Make me lose it, Dean. Gods, I love you..."

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"Gonna fuck you so good... love you..." Sam pulled Dean down flush against him, rutting against his stomach. Little by little, the impossible clench eased, and Dean began to move in the way instinct drove him. The same, but different. Sam's was a much bigger, bulkier and stronger body than Dean had ever experienced, not to mention male. After a little experimentation, he got his thrusts evened out, and he just went for it. "Uuuhh, uhh, uuuhh...!" Dean spread his thighs wide to get leverage with his knees, stabbing so deep while he held Sam tightly. It was bliss, curling through his entire body which was chased by prickles of gooseflesh and opened pores leaking sweat. Inside Sam's slippery channel, he was practically ejaculating pre-cum, and the real thing wasn't far off. 

"Sam..." What was he supposed to do? Dean felt helpless and powerful, so awash in this pleasure made of naked contact and fucking he might die when it peaked. He needed to connect with Sam, and know it was good for him. "...c'n feel it building," he whispered. "In my balls, my ass, down my spine..." When he'd fingered Sam, there was that spot toward the front, not a mystery no, his prostate -- Dean needed to touch it somehow, with his dick. He didn't let up his rhythm, couldn't. Somehow, he got his pelvis tucked under, so he thrust upwards as much as forward. Sam's eyes widened... Yes! It wasn't deliberate, really -- knew by now what his lips did to his brother, Dean couldn't seem to take his mouth off Sam's gleaming skin, just another way of being joined as one. 

And it felt good for Dean, too; he had to tighten his abs and different muscles in his back to do it. Two, three, gasping pushes with all his strength and he felt his control crumbling. He looked up at his beloved, vision watery. "Sammy... gonna... please..."

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As Dean slid deeper and deeper with each thrust, Sam felt as if their bodies were melting into each other. Dean's pleasure invaded all of Sam's senses. He could hear the needy gasps and moans, saw the wide and wild eyes, Dean's open mouth. His skin prickled where it was touched by his brother's, sweat-slick, and the scent of Dean's sweat was intoxicating. His brother's puffs of breath against Sam's skin made him shudder.

And then, there was the feeling of Dean so deep inside him, claiming him, owning him. The way in which the tight rim of his oh-so sensitive hole hugged, clung to Dean's flesh, the wet smacking sounds as his brother moved in and out, ever faster and more frantic, all of it served to accelerate Sam's heart and breathing.

_"...c'n feel it building..."_ Dean's voice betrayed his need. All Sam could do was pant, "Yes, yes, me, too!"

He was going crazy with lust until finally, _finally,_ Dean canted his hips at a different angle and... The air whooshed out of Sam's lungs and he felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. A tingling sensation spread out from his fingers and toes, flared up his spine, then settled in his lower belly, balls, ass, and dick, alongside with the sweet burn of being incredibly aroused that had increased to almost too much already.

One more stroke... One more... Almost there... 

It was the look in Dean's eyes that did it. They were shiny with tears of love, nothing but pupils. That and _"Sammy... gonna... please..."_

Sam's body instinctively threw his head back again, but he fought the move and succeeded in keeping his gaze locked onto Dean's. The so far only smoldering fire exploded in his lower body. Waves of pleasure so hot and indescribable that Sam thought it would blow his brain out crested, reflected back to his groin. Then the real climax started, first deep inside him until it reached his balls, finally his dick...

"DEANNNNUUUUUGHHHH...!!!"

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At the sound of Sam screaming his name, Dean's body flipped any semblance of control the bird. "That's so hot, Sam, let it go, give it up for me..." All that soft-over-hard skin below him, muscles straining, Sam staring into his eyes, letting him see it happen... Dean could see his orgasm hit, and then between them, Sam's trapped cock pulsed and his seed splashed their bellies, sticky and warm. So close to the edge he could taste the bitter-sharp musk of his own cum, and Sam's -- theirs! -- Dean pounded up into Sam with all his strength, balls smacking his ass but pulling higher by the second. 

The achingly-sweet, 'so-so-close' feeling shifted, Dean's voice raised as he lost it utterly. "Sammy... Sammy.... uuunnnnnggcummmming, inside you, cumming...!" And he was, shaking as white light exploded in his groin and his seed burst forth in what felt like boiling ropes to fill his brother. Never had it been like that, where Dean let it burst over him and from him without a hint of fear, continuing to rut and love and slide in his own slick while more and more poured forth. Their eyes were still locked, just like their bodies, for Sam to watch him, too. How had he denied them this for so long? Dean groaned like he was about to die, marginally aware of pounding on the thin motel room wall. Somewhere in the middle, he reached for Sam's mouth, licking his lips and sucking down against them. 

It ended in a series of shudders; Dean swore his balls had been turned inside out. He went limp, dazed. That had been... strangely physical, and he couldn't for the life of his two remaining brain cells figure out what the fuck. Whatever, he sure as hell didn't want to move. 

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Time stood still as Sam rode out his high, and again when Dean's climax hit. If Sam had thought that his orgasm had been the most intense event in his life so far, he now felt as if their feelings, emotional and physical, were exchanged: now it was Sam's turn to watch his brother shake, blissed out, then go limp. It blew his heart away.

Dean collapsed heavily on top of Sam, but Sam didn't mind the weight. In fact, he cherished it, felt as if Dean was covering him like a warm blanket and keeping him safe. He wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him in place, hoping that Dean wouldn't move. Eventually, his brother's dick would slip out of him, but Sam wanted to delay this moment as long as he could.

"Stay..." he whispered against Dean's ear.

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Dimly aware of his surroundings at first, Dean's senses were never-the-less flooded with Sam: his scent, his voice and breath, his arms around Dean, holding him secure and close. 

_"Stay..."_ Sam's whisper could have been plea, command, or anything between. Dean wasn't about to argue. "Not going anywhere. Be with you forever." He hitched his lower body to curl around, under, not wanting to separate. His semen was slowly leaking out, making a mess of his pubic hair and balls. It didn't matter. Not with Sam.

As his breathing slowed, Dean raised his head a little, tilting his face up. "Sam." Just saying his brother's name seemed to have taken on all-new meanings, at least when they were like this. He slid a hand up Sam's chest to his face, where he cupped the high cheekbone, running the pad of his thumb over the pink lips. "I waited so long for you, well, never thought I could have you," Dean breathed out in short phrases. "We belong to each other now.... We're one." 

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

_"We belong to each other now.... We're one."_

Was this what seventeen-year-old girls felt when they enthused about love, maybe after their first night with a boy with whom they had planned their entire life? Sam was so happy that he could cry, and Dean looked as if he'd join him. A part of this deep emotion could be attributed to sexual hormones – oxytocin if he remembered right. In earlier days, he and Dean would have blamed their brain chemistry for what just had happened, but now Sam was sure that it was them. Sam and Dean. Together. Not only together, but together together. Forever.

"Forever's gonna start tonight," Sam whispered. It was a line from an old song he suddenly remembered – Bonnie Tyler; Dean would never stop teasing him if he knew. Then again, Dean's teasing was, had always been, an expression of his love.

Sam smiled. He was Dean's and Dean was his. A line from another song sprang to his mind. Metallica.

"Nothing else matters."

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"Huh, what?" Dean mumbled. He's swear Sam had just quoted cheesy 80's song lyrics at him. He didn't want to know! There was one way to shut his mouth – Dean kissed him again. Paying more attention this time, he looked down at Sam, hair a mess and flushed in strange, fading patterns now. They had done it, obviously! And done it bare, too. Face to face. It all felt good and right, although he was eager to try out other things, too. They were in it for the long haul, something Dean had never experienced in his life. Was it possible to be scared shitless and yet safe- and secure-feeling at the same time? Because he was. 

Shortly after, his shrinking dick slid out in a rush of sticky fluid, Dean still watching Sam's face to see him react. "Alright, Sam? Need me to check you for damage?" He threw a cocky grin and licked Sam's ear, then rolled off to flop on his back at Sam's side. "You might be walking funny for a while. I'd say sorry but I'm not, about that." Chuckling, Dean reached over and patted Sam's thigh. 

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"I sure hope to be walking funny for a while," Sam said dreamily, surprised that he could form coherent words – but they were for Dean, and therefore worth the effort. "Not sorry, either. Actually, I'm going to ask you that we do this again. And again." He smiled and kissed Dean back. 

"I don't think I'll ever wanna walk straight again."

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"I guess we'll go at it again as soon as we can get it up again," Dean grinned, turning his head to study Sam's profile. He'd known his brother his whole life, but that didn't mean he didn't like looking at him anyway. Sam was a unique-looking individual, with those slanted eyes, wide forehead, pointed chin and cute nose, not to mention built for speed and everything about him, long and lean and streamlined. Dean enjoyed all that about him. It wasn't the first time he'd considered how they looked nothing like brothers. The far spectrum of their collective genetic traits were represented, he supposed. Maybe that was part of why Sam was so attractive to him. Then too, there was how well they knew each other and worked together, their past history. 

"We could take a shower together till then," he suggested. "Get rid of one mess before we make another?" 

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Sam groaned. "Dude, right now I don't know if I can ever get it up again. No, seriously. This was... I'm..." Words like blissful, boneless, warm, loved coursed through Sam's mind. He was all of that, although he couldn't think of a term to really describe what he felt.

When Dean suggested a shower, Sam laughed. His brother had always been the practical one between the two of them. Why should Sam waste time trying to figure out a definition of what they had, when all that mattered was that they were together? 

Another thought occurred to him. "I'd appreciate a shower," Sam said. "We're all crusty by now. But one day, I want to lick you clean."

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"It's so damned dirty." Dean meant that in several different ways. For one thing, he had been sweating like a fat guy on a hot day for several hours. Sam's touch – over his chest moving down – left a trail of warmth. "Lick any part of me – any other part, and I am so there. Eating you out was one of my better ideas. But..." Dean snickered at the double meaning of the word, as spoken, anyway, "I'd just given you a bath, remember?" He very well remembered that whole sequence of events. So did his dick, which twitched once and went back into its coma. As feverish and out of it as Sam had been at the time, Dean hadn't been sure until this moment that his brother had a memory of it. It was something they could treasure.

"Besides, I. Uh." Dean looked away, taking in the ugly-plain, institutional decor of the room for the first time. By comparison, the garish themes of older motels almost seemed preferable. He hadn't planned on ever telling Sam 'no' about anything. Certain acts could just be avoided. Right? No, that was a lie. Earlier in the car, during his little fit of melancholia, Dean had been brutally honest with himself in the knowledge that there might be things Sam would want that he probably would never be able to give. And now, here they were, thanks to his own fucking mouth. All he could do was try to delay. "I'm glad you love it. Having it done to you. Your balls were hard as lead shot when I sucked them into my mouth." Sam had a thing about his lips, and Dean knew it. "And that little hole, all responsive, couldn't decide if it wanted to flash open or clench down hard. 'Cuz that was insanely hot, all that squirming and whimpering." 

Slightly panicked, Dean tried not to tense up, tried to picture himself in the position Sam had willingly taken, practically spread-eagling himself but with his ass raised high and spread, knees folded below to hold him up. He just couldn't. A stab of... Not fear, more like a need to flee, caught him unpleasantly right under the ribs. Being in that... position. It would place Dean at Sam's mercy. It wasn't that he didn't trust Sam; he did – implicitly. One thing he knew: Do not show fear. "I'm just... Not into that." 

The words seem to drop dead like stones between them. Attempting to divert an argument, Dean grinned. Suddenly it felt like he was wearing a stranger's face. "Hell, I'll do it to you again, if you want, once we've showered."

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If Dean's reply was a surprise for him, Sam thought he made a good job out of hiding it. Dean said he wasn't into 'that', which Sam thought was fair enough. Just because he totally got off on it didn't necessarily mean everybody else did, too. However, Dean looked extremely uncomfortable as he said it. Sam decided to let the topic rest for now and find out at a later time if Dean had ever tried it or if he was merely afraid of possibly finding himself enjoying something he might consider unmanly. Sam knew that Dean had issues, and he wanted to help his brother. Forcing him to address such a possible fear at this moment, when Dean had just been inside Sam for the first time, would only serve to alienate both of them.

"It was just an idea – and an offer," Sam said lightly. "Hell, I'll take you up on your offer of doing it to me again any time; only wanted to make sure you know I'm here for you if there's ever anything you want me to do for you. Or with you. All you gotta do is ask." He smiled. 

"As for showering, I get your point. You'd best make sure you clean me good, everywhere." Sam leered. "And then I'll see if I can find other places on your body where you'll like my tongue. I seem to remember a few of them from our earlier days." He made a show out of licking his lips, his grin widening when Dean inhaled sharply.

"So, shower?"

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Dean let his breath out in relief when Sam didn't pursue his refusal. It was only a postponement, but still, on this of all days, he'd roll with it gladly. Then Sam reminded him of earlier – much earlier – activities and he hissed in his next breath, totally aroused if not able to get hard yet. He was keen for it, sharing their recollections of those days. For years, Dean had thought he was alone in driving himself crazy with missing his brother's intimacy. He had not been the only one, meaning that Sam must have thought about it, missed it, wanked over it, as much as Dean himself. Yes. One look at Sam's face as he broached the topic told him it had been as much for him, if not more. And it stood to reason, as Sam had been so young at the time, impressionable, and had never been anything remotely approaching promiscuous to help him allay the intense longing. 

So the display of lip-licking was even more lascivious than if Sam did that all the time. Dean blinked. "Fuck..." he moaned. Jumping up, he gestured at Sam to follow. As soon as those long limbs were moving in the right direction, Dean crossed the room to the white-tiled bathroom and turned the water on, as hot as he could stand it; it would be fine for Sam, who could burn through a whole tank of hot water in 10 minutes. Sure enough, there was a presence right behind him, breathing down his neck. 

"Grab the soap, Sammy," Dean joked. "Notice I didn't say drop the soap, but we'll get to that." Yes, they would. Steam was starting to billow out from the side of the plastic curtain. Pulling it aside, Dean stepped in under the spray. "Get in here... And I want to hear all about your spank bank material." Sam joined him, again so close they were touching. Their skin tones were just another of their genetic divergences; the contrast between Dean's pale, freckled limbs against Sam's longer, darker, fine-textured form with its happenstance dots of moles never failed to give him a rush. 

"I'll even go first." Tipping his head back to get his hair wet, Dean paused to gather his thoughts. "Licking... You didn't even think about what you were doing at the time but... Remember when you first licked my nipple?" It burned now and stiffened, needing touch. The imagery was powerful; Dean's fingers found the way but only touched down on the pinprick center point. "I was... jerking off for you. No one had ever done that to me." He looked up into Sam's eyes. Sometimes Sam outstripping him in height was a little disconcerting. Dean didn't have to be the taller one – it just would have been nice to be more equal. "Or asked to see. See me do it. And... that hot little tongue... Oh, Sammy!"

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Sam followed his brother to the – surprisingly clean – bathroom and laughed when Dean mentioned dropping the soap. "Yeah, the soap. When you say we'll get to it, I'll hold you to that promise." This conversation was so silly and light-hearted that he felt tempted to stick out his tongue. 

They entered the stall and Sam's eyes widened at the water running over Dean's perfect body. His brother was half hard again as they stood so closely together that Sam wasn't sure if the heat he felt came from the shower or Dean. Everything he saw was purely erotic, from his brother's wet hair, his eyes, the stubble on his face, over his muscular chest with the stiff pebbles of his nipples standing out, the rippled abdomen, the strong, slightly bowed legs. Even Dean's feet looked sexy to Sam. And the half-hard dick that was nestled in the short but soft hair...

"What I said earlier, about not being able to get it up, just forget I ever said that, 'kay?" Sam asked, breathing harder as the blood rushed downward to his groin. And then Dean began to elaborate on what they'd done in the past...

"Oh yes," Sam shuddered with delight as the memories came back. "You were stroking off. Do you have the slightest idea what watching you did to me? Do you have any idea how often I creamed my pants alone from thinking of you?"

 

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"N-no..." Already starting to pant from excitement Dean, as if on command, imagined Sam, sometimes younger, sometimes as now, shooting load after load into his shorts, arching and trembling, erection rubbing into the slick. "How many times? Did you touch yourself?" 

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"How many times?" it was a good question: how many times was every day since he'd been thirteen, with some days counting twice or more? 

"Dean," Sam grimaced, "I was thinking of you every time I touched myself ever since you showed me how. Are you seriously telling me you never noticed the bite marks on my hand, when I had to stuff it into my mouth to keep quiet while doing myself in the school toilets? That I stopped spending my pocket money on candy because I bought myself more underwear, so I'd always have a spare pair with me? How fast we went through hand lotion?"

"Man, all I could think of whenever I touched my dick was you. Your face when you shot, how your mouth and skin felt under my tongue, how your load smelled and tasted. Hell, I could tell from your juices what you'd eaten the night before."

Sam groaned. "Thinking about that makes me hard even now – not that your body so close to me now leaves anything to my imagination. Dean, I wanna taste you, suck you to oblivion. Please tell me that you want that, too!"

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Dean's heart sped faster and faster as Sam spoke, spilling his secret life. He didn't have to look down to know he was fully hard, cock rigid and pointing up. His loins tingled with the rushing blood, which was going to fill his organ till not one more cell could be squeezed in. 

"Didn't know you bought..." Oh god, the thought of young Sam in small-town stores, purchasing underwear for himself to prevent discovery. From his own experience, Dean knew that protein stains were a bitch to get out, and they hadn't always been able to get to a laundromat often. It seared into his brain as if he'd been there to see, rather than learning of it in retrospect. "And..." He couldn't help it, Dean had to reach out, curl an arm around Sam's narrow waist and rub against his hip. He licked against the side of his neck, where the pulse thrummed next to the long tendon. "Just thought you bruised easy. Had delicate skin," he smirked, but he'd been kidding himself back then. "Could sometimes smell it on you, though, your cum. Then I'd have to go... Either hook up or rub one out, myself." 

But the last thing Sam had said was going to kill him. On his knees, that soft, pink mouth on him, the tongue lashing the head, "Please yeah god Sam..." Dean babbled. "Want that, too!" 

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Dean had barely finished the sentence when Sam was already sinking to his knees before his brother. There it was, right in front of his mouth. Sam gasped as his tongue flicked out and sampled Dean's slit. The bitter pre-cum tasted like nectar to him and he started lapping at the fat crown, tickling the frenulum with his tongue tip. One of Sam's hands cradled Dean's butt while the other gently rolled Dean's balls in their tightening sac. 

Feeling his brother's body shivering under his touch, Sam drew his head back and gave Dean a sweet smile before leaning in again and wrapping his lips around the pulsing dick. He could feel the throbbing of the vein on the underside against his lower lip as he swirled his tongue around the tip, every now and then delving into the slit again to draw more fluid from Dean.

Sam sucked hard on the glans and let the firm flesh slide all the way into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He had to hold his breath as he swallowed, massaging the head with his throat muscles while aiming for the base with his lips.

After a few minutes of indulging himself, drinking in his brother's pleasure, Sam let go if the rock-hard erection with an audible 'pop' from keeping the suction up until the last moment.

"Do you want to cum down my throat or all over me?" Sam rasped hoarsely, his face flushed with desire, and the swollen flesh between his legs was throbbing so hard it was on the verge of painful.

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Immediately, Sam was down on his knees, playing with Dean's cock with his hands and tongue-tip before he took the shaft into his mouth. Trying not fall over from the intense suck-and-pull sensation, Dean hooked one hand over the shower curtain bar and held on tight. He wove the fingers of his other hand into Sam's wet hair, but didn't force him down. It was increasingly harder to breathe, and Dean's thighs shook from wanting to push them far apart and let Sam hold him down and blow him till he came and... When Sam let him go with a loud, obscene pop, so much leaked from the slit Dean almost would have believed it was his next load.

Only it wasn't. It still built up and built up behind that intangible wall deep in his balls. Sam grinned up at him innocent-dirty like this was his favorite thing in the world. It certainly rated very high on Dean's list of favorite things ever. Fingers dug into his ass, and more rolled his swollen twin glands in their sac, making them pull so impossibly tight he nearly whined from how they stung. Dean liked that, though. How, he wondered, did Sam know how to suck a cock like that? Either he was a natural or he'd had a lot of fucking practice. Had Sam maybe done things at Stanford he'd never brought up? No point getting jealous – just look at Dean's run, before and after. Somehow, those lips clamped around his throbbing, aching dick, nearly to the base now. Maybe Dean didn't have foreskin, but Sam provided so much pressure to the head, squeezing it in his throat, he was five seconds from cumming already. And his beloved little brother wanted to know exactly how Dean wished to gift him with his offering of seed, facial or deep-throat. It hit him before he could even speak, taking the choice away. Already thrusting through his broken control and spewing love, Dean screamed, "Swallow meeeeeeee!" 

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Sam barely had time to wrap his lips around Dean's dick again when his brother was already screaming out his release. 

_"Swallow meeeeeeee!"_

Dean's hips thrust forward, out of control, and Sam opened up as wide as he could, then clamped down and set his throat muscles to work. It was years since he'd done this for a much younger – and smaller – Dean, but apparently, he hadn't lost his touch. For a second, Sam was fighting his gag reflex, then he let Dean all the way in and swallowed around him, accepted his brother's essence into his body.

Dean filling him for the second time today was more than just a sexual high. Sam felt as if he was literally swallowing Dean, the whole of him, making him a part of Sam that could never again be taken away. 

"I love you," Sam hummed around the rigid and pulsing length that wouldn't stop spewing. Dean's gasps and guttural moans increased, his legs trembling as his climax drew on, seemingly without an end in sight. Sam braced his brother's hips with an arm against the shower wall as he continued to make love to him with his mouth.

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"Nnngh, nnngh, nngh, uh, uh, AAHH..." Dean couldn't have stopped his grunting and little 'please, please' noises if he'd wanted to. It was just too damned good. Sam took him hot and deep, swallowed him, practically strangled his dick in that talented throat, and swallowed the bursts of seed that slid from him in a strange, slow-motion orgasm that practically ripped him open.

"Sammy..." Dean's knees finally gave out and he let himself slide down the wall. Sam followed, not letting go, still sucking the last dregs. In one second, it went from wanting more to too much; Dean poked a finger through the seal of Sam's lips around him and felt his over-sensitive dick slip free. He couldn't speak. Slack-mouthed, he stared at his brother for the umpteenth time today as if they'd never met before, at the same time welling over with love so powerful he might short out like a dying star. 

"That was... awesome. You have some... skills there, boy." Besides a clumsy compliment, it was a faint reminder of their hunter training, being hicks, and that Dean was the elder. Finally catching his breath, Dean took a minute to revel in the endorphin rush, but it was soon overshadowed by the fact that Sam had not gotten off, and he needed to give his brother just as good of a treatment, if not better. Sam's cock was so hard it was tight up against his belly, the head exposed and purple. The brunt of the shower water was now hitting Sam on the back, but drops of it fell from the drenched hair hanging around his face. More red than pink now, his lips were puffy – almost like Dean's – and various fluids besides water tracked his face. He was so needy, like the bones in his face had sharpened, it almost hurt to look at him. 

And Dean would never leave him in a state like that. This motel must have a nice big hot water tank for the whole place; steam swirled around them, the temperature not abating in the least. "Your turn now. That looks painful," he gestured needlessly at Sam's crotch. "Tell me what you want. Can't fuck you right now," Dean snorted. It would be some hours before his dick would come out of hibernation. He doubted he'd ever been this sated. "But, I can suck you off," his eyes darted again to Sam's heavy dick, then back to his face, "Or I could put you on your knees and lick your asshole." Dean supposed that might be a little crass. Sam, however, had used the terminology first. Either turned him on, if only in the upstairs brain. If he were a typical male, he'd be snoring in the sheets right now. He wasn't. He had a fucking soft-on for his brother. 

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Sam's face couldn't flush any redder than it already was when Dean praised his skills. His throat was dry despite having just swallowed his brother's load, and his dick was throbbing angrily. He could only nod and gasp without words when Dean commented, a little more lucid now, that 'that looks painful.'

A part of him was relieved when Dean explained that he couldn't fuck Sam again right now. As much as Sam wanted to have Dean deep inside him, rubbing his pleasure spot with his dick, he was sore as hell. The idea of Dean's tongue soothing the ache made his balls tighten painfully, and he'd have gone for it, if not...

They were both sitting on the floor of the shower stall. Giving Dean access to his hole would include more moving than Sam felt himself capable of. Somehow, his legs had turned into rubber, starting when he'd experienced Dean's explosive orgasm, and the wobbliness was reinforced by the thought of his brother's mouth around him, licking and slurping.

Sam moaned. It was a challenge to make his lips form the words, but he finally managed a slurred, "Suck me." The next words didn't come easier, but Sam knew they were worth the effort. "Love ya."

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Like he was stupid drunk, Sam slurred, _"Suck me."_ The heat in his eyes hit Dean low in the gut and his mind reeled off like an unspooling of liquid arousal like it always did when Sam voiced his desires or, like earlier, memories of 'them'. Dean blinked slowly, his lashes spangled with water droplets from the shower. Sam's choice surprised him, after the taunting before they showered. Not that he was complaining! His mouth watered at the prospect of tasting Sam's juices and making him feel as good as he just had, Dean.

It took a supreme effort to move. Thinking about it for some moments, Dean leaned forward and twisted to the side. At that angle, he'd able to lick and suck in the head of Sam's dick but it would never work to go down further than that. With a groan, he heaved himself onto hands and knees and crawled between Sam's legs so he was face to face with the hard, throbbing column. It was silly that he should be so proud of his brother's size, yet Dean was. There was the difference, too, that Sam was uncut and Dean was not, although when he was this turned on, the look was not so much dissimilar as that Sam just had a little extra to play with. He started there, licking around the smooth head, down to where the sleeve of the foreskin covered the edge of the ridge.

Sam's reaction, a full-body jerk and groan, told him he got it right. Enthusiastically, Dean sucked hard on the head, reaching forward with his lips to catch that encircling fold of skin... there! He sucked it up into his mouth just a little, moved his whole head up and down, sliding his lips in a tight circle down toward the base. Only a little more than halfway down, Dean had to stop as the tip hit the back of his throat. Hands it was, then. Dean grasped Sam's shaft around the base to steady it, using his other hand on the velvety sac to move the contracted glands within the looser covering. Without being told, Sam spread his legs wide around Dean's shoulders; the landscape view of the long, tense thighs and seam of his perineum, balls pulling up against the side of his fist, kick-started Dean's resolve. There would be times to tease and play. Right now, Sam needed relief.

However, whatever he had to do, Dean was going to deep-throat that monster and swallow whatever Sam would give him. The running water had washed away a lot of the scent and taste, but the pre-cum on his tongue was fresh from the source and Dean licked it up like a cat, lapping the slit as little blurts of it sprang up. Then he sucked down, as much as he could take, bobbing his head. It was another rush how Sam ground back up at him. He couldn't quite open yet, but he was trying. Every time he pulled back, Dean trailed his tongue in his wake. He swirled the head, slurping up the sweet clear fluid.

Looking up at Sam, Dean tightened his suction till he was sure the cock in his mouth was expanding just from the force alone. His brother was so stoned he was barely moving, but he moaned like a wounded animal from his slack mouth and that was good. With the next downward thrust of his head, Dean opened his throat as much as he could. Wedging the head in was something he needed a half-dozen tries to accomplish; after that, the rest was easier. Adrenaline singed him raw in the knowledge this was Sam's entire hard, aching, throbbing, maleness down his throat. Most would see this as the subservient position; Dean had never felt so in control. Mouth clamped at the root, he swallowed, and swallowed, letting Sam watch his own dick make Dean's neck shift with the in-out motions.

He so didn't want to stop for breath, but he had to. "Sammy..." he panted, "love you too, you know I do. Next time, let it go, you're so close." It was true. Sam's balls had pulled up so far they almost disappeared inside him. Once again, Dean swirled his tongue through what Sam was leaking and spread it around, playing the foreskin with his lips and tongue. Taking a deep, deep breath, he took Sam's cock back into his mouth, into his throat, loving it, going up and back, up and down, now almost the entire length of it. Just gently, Dean squeezed the torturously tense sac and its contents. He hummed tunelessly so that the vibration would resonate in the blood-stuffed shaft and sucked for all he was worth. 

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Dean looked so tired when he moved that Sam was about to call everything off before they'd rested, but his brain was too sluggish to speak. Or maybe his downstairs brain had fully taken over...

"God!" he choked out when he felt his brother's tongue placing soft licks on his crown, then the most sensitive part of him, the ridge... Sam couldn't help it; his hips bucked on their own account as Dean sucked hard, then more gently, alternating between teasing his foreskin down and taking him deep.

Sam howled at the firm hand wrapped around the base of his dick. The desire to cum, the urge to fuck into his brother's mouth was so strong that he couldn't have fought it without Dean's hand. In a weird way, it felt good to be held back, also because it came with the promise that Dean would take care of his needs.

He thrashed his head as Dean continued to lick and suck, lap at his slit that was oozing fluid like crazy. Dean increased his suction and Sam thought he'd die if he couldn't cum soon. Crying out when Dean let him slip out of his mouth, Sam felt a surge of pre-cum leaking out, almost a full load on its own. 

Through the roaring in his ears, he barely heard Dean telling him that he loved him, 'ordering' him to let go. Then again, he didn't really have to hear it: Dean descended on him again, and Sam felt with every fiber of his body how much his brother loved him. The pleasure crashing through him was so intense that he knew he was about to burst, and he knew that Dean knew it, too.

Dean slowed down his motions as Sam rose higher and higher. Then, all of a sudden, Sam felt incredibly strong suction together with a vibration around the swollen head that was just too much. A hand squeezed his balls – and that was it. Their load was propelled out, seemingly all at once, with enough force to bring his seed to a – perceived – boiling point. 

"Nuh, nuh, nuugghh! Deannnn... Nuuuughhhhhh!"

Sam bucked and twitched helplessly while his brother sucked him dry.

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There was warning enough: Sam yelling Dean's name, the crazy-intense surging of his cock. Dean thought himself ready but oh shit! Sam's semen flooded his mouth, almost choking him. Getting his gag reflex under control with a large, spasming cock wedged into his esophagus wasn't easy, but Dean did it by closing his eyes tightly and focusing on swallowing, accepting, taking in. The taste wasn't sweet – cum was cum. But it was Sam's so Dean decided he loved it.

Soon as his climax was over, Sam began to shrink. Dean simply held him there in his mouth for a while, just as Sam had held him within his body after they'd been together. Their breathing synced, their heartbeats as well. At a wordless touch of Sam's fingers upon his face, Dean released his hold and simply lay there, head pillowed on his brother's thigh. 

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Heat flashes kept surging through Sam's body as Dean kept sucking him until Sam had nothing more to give. Dean continued to hold him in his mouth through the aftershocks, gentle and soothing, just like he'd done when they were younger.

As his senses slowly returned, Sam smiled at Dean and caressed his cheek. He loved the stubble on his brother's face and slowly ran his fingers across the jaw-line, enjoying the depth in Dean's bottomless green eyes.

The warm water would run out eventually – Sam was amazed that it hadn't already – but until then, he wouldn't move. After two intense releases in such a short time, Sam felt like his bones had turned to rubber. Besides that, what could be better than having his brother lying on his thigh, looking up to him and bathing him in love?

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It was so warm, between the water and the slowly fading rush of effort. Every part of Dean's body felt alive. Heavy, too, in an ultra-satisfied way that meant sleep was in the near future. He looked up at Sam, smiling a little. Hand on Sam's other leg, Dean lay still as long fingers caressed his face so childlike, the gun calluses softened. Less than Dean, accountable for fewer years hunting and less recklessness when he did, Sam still had a few faint scars on his hands, arms and torso. He lifted his own hand to Sam's other leg, both of them needing the connection. His pale, freckly skin against the near-olive, dark-haired tones of his brother always made him feel complete and whole. 

There was a longer scar running in an arc just under Sam's hip. Dean well remembered as he'd been the one to stitch it, somewhere around Sam's eighteenth birthday. Hitching upwards, he strained to kiss the thin line of raised skin, now silvery-white. At the time, he'd felt every prick of the needle as if it was piercing him instead. Despite his brother bleeding, in pain, their Dad stalking around in the background with a bottle and nothing but glares for either of them, Dean had been hard, so hard at having his hands on Sam for the first time in, by then, almost three years. Sam's slashed jeans and underwear had been off – hell, they'd had to peel them off that gusher of a wound – and Dean had had to pretend, for both of their sakes, that the lump under the towel covering Sam's crotch was only thanks to leftover adrenaline from the hunt. If their Dad hadn't been there, he was sure he'd have jumped Sam then... And he wished it were so. They had lost a lot of years, something most hunters had in short supply. 

"Ah, Sam... It was so stupid. I thought I was doing the right thing. You know. It turned out for shit. I mean, you got a college education and we're still alive but... We spent the time alone in our own heads, loving and missing and wanting each other. So many years. I'm sorry." Dean's hand clenched convulsively into Sam's thigh muscle, and he curled his body in on itself. "I know it's water under the bridge now. But, can you forgive me?" 

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"Dean..." Sam's body was vibrating with part post-orgasmic haze, part emotional bliss. Having Dean in his lap, utterly relaxed and with his defenses down, made his heart throb with rapture. As much as he knew that his brother's love was sincere, Sam was only too aware that their hunters' life style wouldn't grant them many moments like this, and he intended to treasure every sub-sub-second of it.

Dean began to kiss his belly and hips, licking at one of Sam's more prominent scars. Sam shivered, remembering how Dean had stitched him up, the pain and – desire. Every time Dean had threaded the needle though his skin, Sam had perceived it as piercing his heart. It had hurt so much, yet Sam had welcomed it as the only physical closeness he and his brother were ever permitted to share. It had been one of the most intimate moments of their lives, and Dean making love to the old scar – it was the only way for Sam to describe what Dean was doing – moved him more than he could have imagined.

"Dean," he repeated. "We both thought we were doing the right thing. I thought I had to leave because I couldn't have survived without you... your love... I was so blind! How could I ever blame you for..."

Seeing the self-hate and insecurity in his brother's eyes, Sam bent down and kissed Dean's lips. "There isn't anything to forgive you for because you never did anything wrong. Dean, we were both kids. Neither of us knew what we were doing. Let's not dwell on the past but be happy that we resolved things. Let's live for the future. And my future is _you._ "

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"I know... We were young. Didn't seem like it then. Maybe I was always old, with the responsibilities Dad put on me. For sure, I was the older brother. I was supposed to know what to do," Dean tried to explain. He traced the line of hairs from Sam's belly button down, ruffling into the thicker thatch above his dick, while he craned his neck back to accept Sam's soft kiss. Dean breathed out audibly, not quite a moan, utterly relaxed. He felt like he could stay here just touching his beloved's body forever, with no real urgency or danger to drive them. 

Sam had a way to cutting through the bullshit, too. When they'd been kids, Dean had usually attributed it to Sam being a brat. It had seemed like he had to challenge or contradict Dean on nearly everything. Mainly his pre-conceived notions, and all the rhetoric their father had force-fed them. It wasn't like that now, not anymore. Dean got it that he'd be stupid to keep poking at the old wound, figuratively speaking. 

Not far from the scar, the sharp cut of Sam's hipbone spoke to Dean of his brother's training, discipline and physical strength. His own was similar, although Dean had to always push and step over the line. He had put a lot of unhealthy shit into his body and hurt himself unnecessarily that way.

"So we take it minute by minute, have ourselves some good times while we can. Yeah. That's more than we thought we'd have, till... Harvelle's." He winked, mood lightened considerably. "And some wild sex, with any luck. Uh, Sam... Are you, like, sore?" He only meant to offer what comfort he could. "Just asking." Dean levered himself up so he was sitting again, and pulled Sam against his chest. 

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"In hindsight, I'm beginning to understand why nobody likes teenagers," Sam commented dryly. "I must have been a real brat, but you... Dean, I keep complaining that I never had a real childhood, but for you it was even worse. I didn't bear the responsibility for a younger brother, let alone one who'd never do what he was told." He grimaced. "Let me just tell you, also in hindsight, that you did a terrific job with me. I sure didn't appreciate it back then, but I never felt safer in my life than with you watching over me."

Sam squeezed Dean's shoulder, then leaned down and kissed him again.

"Minute by minute and having a good time whenever we can sounds like a good plan to me. Wild sex sounds an even better one," Sam grinned. "We'd better work on our stamina, though. And, no – or yes, I am sore; it feels kinda good, though. I should probably not suggest a second round straight away, but it won't slow me down in a hunt."

Letting himself be pulled against Dean's chest felt heavenly and Sam sighed. He placed his hand flat on the firm muscle and looked at his brother's face with a lopsided grin. "You know, I'd ask you to put some ointment on my butt, but I can guess where that would lead."

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The words Sam used, that Dean had 'done a good job with him' made it sound as it Dean were Sam's parent. For all practical purposes, he had filled that role. Just one more messed up layer of their lives. "Wouldn't trade it, Sam. Not now. Yeah, you could be a pain in the ass, but I was always proud of you. You were smart, strong, you learned quick. Pretty much from the time you could talk, your mouth, your lip, was just part of who you were." A ghost of a smile on his own, Dean brushed his finger across Sam's satiny lower lip, then the upper, then the stubble above. 

Remembering something, he chuckled, "Do you know what your first sentence was? 'Sammy hungry, dammit!' You weren't even two! It kinda never let up. Always vocal about what you wanted. I never was. Brothers are supposed to fight, be competitive, right? We sure fit that bill." He paused. "I knew you appreciated me. Looked up to me, whatever. You told me so..." Dean shuddered over the memories, whispering, "many times, when you learned your body and mine and came off at my hands. Teaching you to handle weapons, sweet-talk grieving widows, how to knock a guy out with one punch or hustle pool, all that was my job. The pleasure – sex? That was mutual. Like now." One thing Dean did not doubt was that Sam's desire, passion, and satisfaction equalled his own. 

Dean groaned, "Aaaaaww!" and grinned like a loon when Sam brought up ointment. "Did you raid Doc Charlie's stores, too? I dunno if I should touch that needy little hole of yours. You can't blame me if it demands attention." He considered. "Well, I suppose in a way it's my fault, huh? Needing the ointment, anyway." 

Tilting Sam's head to look at him directly, Dean reminded him, "I told you before, I refuse to hurt you. Then, I meant fucking you without lube. If you're hurting from it, then I'll take care of you. Even if it means not starting something. Jesus, Sam, you were a virgin, I guess. You'd never had a dick in your ass. And you let me... gave me that... Right now, though, Little Dean's still down for the count." 

About then, the water began to cool. They'd have to move or be blasted in freezing cold. Dean laughed self-deprecatingly, both about his dick's snooze mode and the fact that he had no idea how he was even going to stand. "Dunno, Sammy, we might have to crawl back to bed. Literally." He at least flopped over to where he could reach the tap and shut the water off. Immediately, the steam began to lift, although it was still so thick they could see each other and not much else. 

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Sam laughed with sparkling eyes. "A minute ago, 'Little' Dean wasn't quite so little. And, for the record, I enjoyed every fraction of an inch of it – er, him." 

The water turned cold. Dean shut it off, but Sam still felt his skin turn into gooseflesh. His nipples hardened, and not in a pleasant way.

"Yeah, let's crawl out or whatever, and let's do it before Little Sammy here decides to find himself a nice warm place to hide."

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"L.O.L., Sam!" Dean laughed. The cold was motivation enough to heave himself to his feet. He reached for towels, one for himself and one for Sam, and held out a hand. Sam's arms and legs had gone to gooseflesh and his nipples were pulled into tiny points. It wasn't from arousal, but they still made Dean's mouth water. For some reason, Sam's taste was different there, smoky. "C'mon, get up. It's – he's – gonna crawl right up in you, huh? I know about that shrinking feeling." His dick wasn't happy with the cold either. Drying off quickly, Dean wrapped the towel around his waist. 

"I can always warm up Not-So-Little Sam," Dean smacked his lips. "He's long. I might need a little extra, uh, practice. Last time was kind of urgent." It had made a frantic-with-need blow-job, thrilling but not especially skilled. Dean didn't consider himself an expert, not yet. 

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Sam meant to reply to Dean's comment that his dick was gonna crawl up right inside him, but the words stuck in his mouth at the – offer? suggestion? that Dean could warm him up. He was confused. Hadn't his brother announced only a very short while ago that he wasn't into 'that'? Had he misunderstood Dean before and he wanted Sam to fuck him? Or was this latest statement the misunderstanding? He should have listened more closely; if only his brain wasn't so out of it. 

The idea of being buried to the hilt in Dean's body made Sam's dick twitch, regardless how empty he was. Making Dean experience what Sam had just felt when Dean had 'taken' him... So far, they'd always gotten off on more or less the same things. Well, if he was honest, he'd never licked Dean's hole, but Sam hadn't been too enthusiastic about that either, since it was, well, dirty.

Remembering the car ride after he'd been shot, the fights, how they'd almost not found out about their love for each other, Sam decided to ask outright what Dean had meant. With his eyes focused on towelling himself as dry as possible, he asked, prepared to duck his head, "Um, De, what exactly do you mean with you could warm up, er, Not-So-Little Sam?"

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It wasn't lost on Dean the effect that calling attention to his mouth had on his brother. He knew what he looked like. So he was confused as to why Sam was questioning where or how this 'warming' would happen. What did Sam think?

It hit him. The fight-or-flight response kicked in hard, as if someone were threatening him. It was one pushed-down worry Dean still had, Sam's potential need to... Oh, god. That. 

"Well, that I'd blow you again. What did you think I meant, Sam?"

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Sam didn't miss the stricken, panicked look in Dean's eyes as the nature of his question hit home. It was there for a mere instant, and then it was gone again, too intense to match Dean's casual reply as to what Sam could have been thinking other than that Dean offered his mouth.

This was already the second time that Dean's reaction had been, well, off, when his, not Sam's ass had been mentioned. Sam would drop the issue for now, but he made a mental note that this wasn't how he'd expect a self-secure and proud male like his brother to behave if the topic of anal sex came up. In particular, not since Dean apparently was more than comfortable with Sam's ass.

"Nothing, just wondering," Sam replied, trying to sound casual as well. "I mean, there's your mouth, your hands, frottage, wrapping it up in one of your socks..." He knew that his laughter sounded a little forced and too loud, but he hoped hat Dean would go with it.

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Dean snorted over Sam's humor. _"...wrap it up in one of our socks."_ "I've seen dick-sized sleeping bags in stores, like display models. And little tents, too. But you do that just fine with just you and your underwear so..."

He could sense that Sam had almost broached the topic, but had backed off. There was this thin wall between them now that hadn't been there a minute ago. On one hand, Dean was grateful for another temporary reprieve; on the other, a Sam who didn't push and challenge him wasn't right, either. Someday soon, he'd have to tell Sam, the whole story – Dean couldn't see any other way. Just as soon as he could figure out a way to do it that would prevent Sam from thinking any of it was his fault. Dad had used Sam's needs – only for food and shelter – as impetus. Only a few times. Dire, desperate times. The old man couldn't offer what Dean alone could. The bastard could barely stand to look at Sam because he saw himself. Nor at Dean, because of what – who – he didn’t. In other circumstances, if it had come to it, would John have ever resorted to whoring out their mother, murmuring about, "...for the children..."?

No, Dean knew the answer to that, and who'd have been first in line, in that situation.

All the dark, batshit-crazy dysfunctional shit wanted to well up and run over. Dean tensed just in time to keep himself from punching the nearest wall. Goddammit, why now? Instead of random violence, he looked up at Sam – naked, beautiful, so in love with him as he was with Sam – pushed his chest against him, backing him into the wall. He felt so damn good: Dean wanted to take him to bed again, even if just to fall asleep with him. But... "You meant my ass, didn't you? Your dick, my ass, you want to fuck me. Isn't that right? I'm... I'm sorry, Sam. I-I-I just..." The words stalled, and Dean felt helplessly trapped, unable to look away.

Can't? Won't? Will not? Shouldn't? No, he _should_. But 'should' wouldn't make him able to... Sam stared back at him, maybe mildly shocked, expectant. "Can't bend over, not for anyone. Used goods. Broken." 

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For a moment it looked as if the sudden tension would resolve itself when Dean laughed over Sam's lame joke, but then Dean froze up, again. Sam's previous thought that his brother was simply uncomfortable with the concept of being on the receiving end got punched out by the obvious fact that something way more sinister was behind this.

_"Can't bend over, not for anyone. Used goods. Broken."_

What the hell was Dean talking about? Sam had never seen his brother look so vulnerable before – and he'd never been as scared before in his life. He felt as if he'd suddenly been transported to a parallel universe. Here he was, with his back against the wall and Dean leaning into him, so close, and yet all of a sudden infinitely far away from him.

"Dean..." Sam was speechless, really speechless, which was probably a first for him. The implication of what Dean had just admitted...

Sweet lord, he had to say something, or he might lose Dean forever! Sam wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders and met his eyes, struggling to remain calm. "Dean. I love you. I'll never make you do anything you don't want. You just took me to heaven, and I wanted to return the favor. It was an offer, not something I expect or demand from you."

Sam took a deep breath and clenched his teeth. "If this puts you at ease, I swear that I'll never bring it up again." It would kill him, but he knew he could make this sacrifice – for Dean. "But I'm here if you want – need to talk. Whenever you need to talk. I'll never ask it of you to..." bottom? submit? Sam wasn't even sure what to call it. "...do anything you're not comfortable with."

He swallowed. "Know that all that counts is that I love you. And that I'll do anything for you. Anything."

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"Okay... Okay, Sam." Now that the words had fallen from his lips, Dean wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Of course Sam wasn't going to try to force him. Good luck with that! It wasn't in Sam's nature, anyway. He accepted his brother's arms around him, shifting so he was more resting against Sam than pushing. "It was a long time ago. I shouldn't have brought it up."

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"Dean." Sam tightened his grip on his brother. "Even if it was a long time ago, I feel that it's hurting you. Let me help. Whatever you think I can do to help, I'm there for you and I expect you to call on me. And above all, whatever happens, don't forget that I. love. you."

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There had never been a time when it had been Sam comforting Dean. There were one or two instances from childhood, more things he didn't care to discuss, but otherwise it had always been the reverse. Dean felt adrift. Like, separated from whatever their normal – for them – roles were. "Thanks, man. I love you, too, Sammy. Always." Dean inhaled Sam's scent, much fainter now right after the long shower. 

"Um, we should go out there," Dean motioned with his head. "Maybe lie down. I'm whipped, can barely stand." All they had were towels; it would be cooler in the room and under the covers might be nice.

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"Come on, then," Sam smiled. He loosened his grip and slid his hand down on Dean's arm, pulling him along. "Uh, I don't suppose that we want to lie in this mess?" He pointed at the bed that looked like a battlefield from the sex, and placed his towel on top of the huge stain.

They snuck under the covers, facing each other. One arm wrapped around his brother, Sam ran his free hand over Dean's face, felt the warm breath on his fingers. The deep green eyes spoke of trust, but there was also vulnerability and fear. Sam knew that the topic of anal sex would probably come up again eventually, but right now, he wanted only to hold Dean and keep him safe.

It felt strange to be the 'strong' one of the two. This had happened only a few times before in their past, and not in circumstances that Sam ever wanted to live through again.

"Dean," he whispered and nuzzled his nose against Dean's face until he ended with his lips against his brother's. "Feels so good..."

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They had wrecked the bed. "It's big enough, I think we can avoid the wet spot." And they managed.

Arms around each other, they lay nuzzling and kissing for a while. Sam's lips were so elastic and mobile, it was like they found every fraction of a millimeter of whatever part of Dean he was working. In return, Dean lavished slow, lush kisses against Sam's mouth, or his shoulder or neck when he was otherwise occupied. Under the blankets, Dean twined his bowed legs through Sam's long slender ones and used the leverage to pull them flush at the hips. They were both still soft, other than a few errant twitches, from having cum so hard. Twice. He loved the feel of Sam's lax junk squishing against his. He ran his open hand up and down Sam's back, neck to ass, touching every little bump on his spine and ridge of muscle.

His body was relaxed, pliant, but Dean's mind was jumping around like a scared rabbit. He didn't even know why. No matter what he said, Sam wasn't going to run. Or he sure as hell hoped not. Dean didn't want to have to relive those things, the anger-fear-shame from his teenaged years, not out loud. If he didn't then what? Be scared to sleep for the dreams for the rest of his life, reliving it not out loud but in his own thoughts? Maybe he should hire a shrink. No, that was not the Winchester way.

"Sam..." Dean murmured finally, "I've got to get something off my chest. Can you... promise me you won't freak out?" That wasn't a fair question, but he couldn't very well order it to be so. And Sam could always say no. 

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For a while, they lay on the bed, warm and comfortable under the covers, enjoying the closeness. As incredible as the sex had been, this was a whole new level of intimacy, skin on skin, their noses rubbing against each other as well as the rest of their bodies. In a way, Sam was glad that he couldn't get hard again soon. He wanted nothing more than to feel Dean's body close to him and inhale his scent. Whatever happened outside their cocoon didn't matter.

Although Dean's body appeared relaxed in Sam's arms, there were little twitches that told Sam that something heavy was on his brother's mind. He was about to comment to Dean to get it out because Sam could 'hear him thinking', when Dean spoke up without being prompted. About to freeze at the unlikelihood of Dean asking for a 'talk', Sam caught himself. This was serious. Very serious. Something that was so serious, Dean asked Sam if he could listen without freaking out...

Keeping his arm wrapped around Dean's shoulders, Sam pulled him closer. He knew he sometimes couldn't control his temper, and he was more scared than he'd ever been of a monster, but he knew he could do it. Dean needed him. Dean really needed... something, what Sam wasn't sure yet, but whatever it was, he could give it. For Dean.

"I'm here." Sam said. He slung his free arm around his brother's waist. "And I'm staying – unless you need space. No freaking out. Tell me. And no blame if you can't. Whatever comes, we take it at your pace. Together. When you're ready."

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Sam really didn't know what he was in for, and in that, Dean felt a little sorry for him. Here his brother lay, taking care of him to the best of his ability and... "Okay. No matter what I say, Sam, just listen." It wouldn't be easy. If it were the reverse, what Dean was about to tell him would make him white-hot for revenge. There would be no such thing, though, so it was pointless. "When you were... we, were younger. To be exact, I was thirteen. Well, do you remember that winter I went on my first major hunt? A banshee. It was the first time we made you stay alone at night. Dunno if you were aware, 'cuz Dad rarely let anything slip, but he was flat broke. Car ran out of gas near a little one-horse town with nothing but a bar, a church, a filling station and maybe ten houses. It was near midnight, and we were rank with sweat, dried blood, gunpowder, and half frozen from trudging along the road."

That night came flying back at him. A lonely stretch of dark, snowy highway. The banshee had gotten the slip on them. He'd been exhausted. John cursed and muttered like a crazy man as he'd walked, as if some of the banshee juice had rubbed off on him. Finally in the distance, the lights of civilization appeared. "I was so glad to see... Was just thinking of somewhere to get warm. Maybe get something to eat. The only thing open was the bar, so we went in there. I was too young to even bother with a fake ID yet, but no one said anything. Dad ordered us a couple of beers, guess the bartender thought he looked good for it. Or too scary to argue with." John could be that, not that Dean had ever argued with him. It wasn't done. Not by him.

"We sat at a table in the middle of the room. Totally out of character. Stupid. Pretty soon a guy wanders over; Dad waved him to sit down." There had been the clop of cowboy boot heels on the wood floor. One of those ubiquitous brown farmer jackets. Greasy hair and rough stubble. "I figured maybe he'd try poker. Or even Blackjack. Instead, the guy offered more drinks. I figured Dad would say no since he couldn't return the favor. He accepted, though. Smiled, even. It was strange, 'cuz I could feel pissed-off vibes coming off him like they were electric current."

Finding he was shivering, despite the warmth, Dean held on to Sam tighter. He gathered himself. "They didn't say much, and I wasn't paying close attention. Finally, the man goes, 'Your boy has a real pretty mouth.' I remember rolling my eyes and laughing because... What a stupid thing to say, right?" More than twice the age now as then, Dean's more than familiar with the line. It grates him the same every time. "Dad said something like, 'Not for sale' and the dude... He flashed a couple of bills. 'You wouldn't be dragging him in here, this time of night if it wasn't.'" 

gain, Dean had to pause. "Till then, I hadn't picked up on what he was getting at. I did then. I wanted to puke." He sucked in a breath. "Dad looked at me. Then the guy again. And kinda desperate, 'Fifty for me', he said. And so then I really wanted to puke, scream, something. Our own dad! I must've protested. 'You boys need food. And a roof,' he growled at me from the side of his mouth." Too late, Dean realized what had just escaped his lips. Although, he had successfully shielded his brother from the worst. John had said 'Sam' not 'you boys'. 

Hurrying on, he tried to wrap it up. "That guy, as crusty and ugly and smelling like sheep shit as he was, snorted and looked at Dad like he was nuts. "'Your old tired ass? Not likely. Double or nothing,' and he jerked his chin at me." Shuddering revulsion, Dean continued defensively. "So... Dad came out of it a hundred ahead that night. And I... I spit," he finished. That time, anyway, though he'd been afraid it would be otherwise, Dad hauled him out in time and he'd had spunk, tears, and snot all over his face but his ass was intact. "Guess that was crossing some sort of line. Was the first time, not the last. He got six hundred for me once. We needed... I think it was the AK that time. Got it under the table with a scope and two boxes of shells for my..." He swore, he wasn't going to say any derivation of the word 'virgin' out loud ever again. They were both well and done with that now.

"So yeah. I'm not exactly, um, unused. And you can figure it out why I can't..." Unable to go on, Dean buried his face in Sam's neck.

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As he'd promised, Sam kept still and listened. It was a grisly tale, and by the time Dean couldn't speak any longer, Sam's heart was aching and he was fighting hard to hold back the tears. He felt with his brother, and being needed by Dean was the only thing that kept him from jumping out of bed to go through their father's journal and seek out the place Dean had mentioned, so he could plan a hunt for another brand of monster.

Dean was clinging to him and Sam pulled him in, held him close, petting his hair and rubbing his nape and back, making cooing noises. That Dean didn't break free was scary in its own. Sam kissed Dean's hair softly.

His beloved brother had been abused. And their father had not only not stopped it and protected his child, but he'd forced Dean to endure it by laying guilt on him – Sam had an inkling that Dad would have brought Sam's needs up as excuse, not that they all – or the boys – needed food. Sam ground his teeth. Whenever Dean had tried to refuse to do something in their childhood, Dad had played the Sam card, so this wouldn't have been any different.

Another thought occurred to him. There had been this incident when Dean, scared out of his mind after a nightmare, had wet the bed and couldn't stop shaking and crying until Sam made him crawl under the covers with him. Dean had never told him what had caused this, but he'd been thirteen at the time. It was beginning to make terrible sense.

However, the fact that Sam's brain had finally connected the dots still left him helpless. His thoughts were a jumbled mess while he continued to hold his shaking brother. Sam wanted nothing more than to wipe the experience from Dean's mind, like when Dean had taken care of little Sammy's nightmares, kissed the booboo better. Of course, this wasn't possible, but it didn't stop Sam from yearning for it.

The – unwelcome and totally not helpful – idea popped up in his mind that Dean had obviously enjoyed giving Sam head, as teenagers, and only a few minutes ago in the shower. So since Dean could enjoy that, maybe he could one day enjoy other things and overcome his trauma. Sam pushed the thought aside. He was clueless as to what he could do for his brother, but such thoughts would only make things worse – as if they could actually get any worse.

Okay. He'd read about rape victims and how their loved ones felt useless because they couldn't help, couldn't make everything disappear. Sam knew that the only 'help' he could give was his love, and that was regardless of Dean's past. He couldn't say that being abused and sold didn't matter because it did. They changed – almost – everything. Not his love, but it was no longer Dean's problem alone. Sam suppressed a shudder. To imagine that his brother had been alone with this horrible secret all his life!

Dean was curled up against him as closely as possible, and Sam tried to deepen the contact by literally wrapping his body around him. "Dean," he whispered into Dean's ear, softly so that he wouldn't spook his brother. "Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me. I can't change the past, but the future is ours. Let me tell you how much I admire you for your strength. I want you to know that I will never pity you, and that I'll always be there for you. I won't ever demand anything you can't give me – or aren't comfortable with. Even if one day you'd ask me to stop having sex with you at all, that won't change my love for you."

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Sam didn't say anything for a while; Dean was grateful that he didn't start in with twenty questions immediately. He didn't think he could talk about it anymore that day. Letting Sam hold him was... so good. Not in a sexual way. Just in a comforting way. Dean hadn't had that before in his life, well, probably not since their mother had died. Bobby was a good foster father, but he'd learned not to get too close, just like most hunters. Cassie hadn't gone in for that, either. They had spent most of their time fighting and fucking; although he had cared about her, it was not like this. Sam, just by being there and letting him speak, provided more support than anyone he could have paid to psychoanalyze him.

"Thanks for listening to me. It... wasn't easy. Probably not to hear, either. Took some balls, Sam," Dean told his brother. "For both of us, I guess."

If he felt exhausted before, after the sex, the emotional outpouring had taken more of a toll. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he did wiggle upwards to look into Sam's eyes, which, while dark, held his watery gaze steadily. "Don't do anything stupid. It's in the past. Now I need to find a way to get past it. Having you, with me, helps. Already."

It didn't mean Dean would never think about it. What he'd told Sam just now, that had been the first time such a thing had happened. It had been traumatic, had scared the hell out of him. He'd pissed the bed after it was over, that night, something he hadn't done since before he could remember. Never again though, not even when he'd had to go to the ER after a pair of truckers got too rough. If not for his fake ID, they'd have had CPS on them for sure, that night.

It was a wonder he hadn't shut down. Dean had met women who'd been through what he had. Frigid, or promiscuous. It seemed like there was no middle ground. He was more than aware of which way he'd gone. And he'd always been in control, which was easier with girls, and his young brother, and the few guys, who tended to be twinky and small, he'd chosen to experiment with, hands and mouths. 

"Sammy," Dean slanted his lips over Sam's, sucking a little. "Baby." He dipped his tongue into the warm wetness to find its mate. Pushing the dark strands of Sam's hair back off his face, Dean wound his fingers in, maybe a little tighter than necessary, but he needed to hang on.

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"I won't do anything stupid," Sam softly. "I swear. And I understand and won't feel left out by the fact that it's you who has to find a way past it. But you're not going to walk that way alone. I'll always be at your side."

The way Dean shivered and huddled even closer against him told Sam that his brother hadn't told him everything. Maybe some of what had been done to him was too horrible to put into words. Sam would listen if Dean spoke, but he'd also be there for him in silence.

"Dean," he whispered back when Dean kissed him. It was a different kiss, not in any way similar to the kisses they'd shared before. It was infinitely gentle and shy, and yet it felt as if Dean was scared to be pushed away, as if he wasn't allowed to be like this. Sam kissed him back and let his tongue and lips seek out the softness of Dean's mouth.

Very slowly, they tasted and licked at each other, their bodies close and warm under the blanket. Despite the ugliness of what had gotten them here, Sam wanted it to never stop. Their connection felt as deep to him as never before. Maybe it was because Dean had never opened up like this before, had never allowed himself to be the needy one. As much as Sam wished Dean wouldn't have lived this traumatic experience, he was also relieved that Dean trusted him enough to ask for help. 

"I've got you," Sam whispered, then kissed his brother's firm and yet so soft lips again. "Baby."

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As many people as Dean had kissed in his life, there was nothing at all like, or better than, Sam. His brother could be the most gentle and tender of lovers, like he was being now. This sweetness was kind of surprising, because Sam was always tightly wound, jittery and alert, his mouth dropping sarcasm or factoids or little digs at Dean's usual reticence. And earlier, at the peak of his passion, he had been loud, barely controlled, every muscle on him tense and flexed under Dean's possession of him. That was more like Sam. Dean had had a sense that Sam only held back out of some sort of respect for him, and that, unchained, Sam would be a hellion in bed. Maybe someday...

Regretfully, Dean felt his eyes closing, his mouth falling slack against Sam's neck, his lower lip ruffling the tiny, downy hairs below where his beard started. They had really worn themselves out. "Can't stay 'wake..." he mumbled, numbness washing over him. Breathing in deep, Dean took in the scent of 'them', clean from the shower, his fear, Sam's acceptance, the leftover pheromones and semen from earlier. Just once more, he managed to open his eyes a slit, and saw Sam's lashes fanned closed against his cheekbones. "Love y–" There was the myoclonic jerk that meant he was out, and Dean let himself be pulled under, into sleep. 

TBC... 


	3. Chapter 3

How many times had he and Dean fallen asleep wrapped around each other? Sam wondered. There had been all the times when Sam had been little and afraid of the dark, so that Dean had let him sleep in his bed. Then there had been their teenage years with sleep following secret and forbidden pleasures. During the past weeks, they had rediscovered their love and shared beds in an attempt to melt into each other.

Today, holding Dean felt different. Sam remembered one or two incidents in their past when Dean had clung to him, and until now, Sam had had no idea what it had been about. Now that he knew, he wished he could have helped more back then. How was he supposed to know that their own father had done this to his eldest? How could Dad have allowed anyone to hurt Dean? How could Dad have forced Dean to endure this? Sam would rather have died of hunger, thirst, and cold before he'd have let Dean carry this terrible burden. He knew that his brother would have offered to give his body away without thinking if Sammy needed food or shelter, but the choice hadn't been his in any event.

If Dean became aware of Sam feeling guilty for having been the card Dad had used to force Dean into letting himself be hurt by those men, it would make him feel even worse. Sam had to come to terms with it, had to accept it as a token of his brother's love. He didn't know if he could, but he had to. For Dean.

Another thing Sam wasn't sure he could deal with was his helplessness. There was nothing to be done, really. The clock couldn't be turned back. Dad was dead, and Sam had sworn not to go after those that had hurt - he couldn't even bring himself to think the _other word_ \- his brother.

Sam shivered and Dean mumbled something in his sleep. "Shh," Sam pulled Dean closer and kissed him softly. "Sleep, Baby." Dean relaxed again.

This was a kind of monster they'd never had to face before. If Sam considered it a hunt, started with research, maybe he could find clues on how to deal with it. His most important clue, however, was Dean. If they were to hunt this thing, Dean would have to be the one calling the shots.

For now, Sam's help consisted of holding his brother as he slept. As for later... Whatever Dean decided, Sam would be ready.

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He was thirteen years old, just barely into his short-lived gangly growth spurt phase. He only knew this because of the pattern of scars on his hands, and the smell. He was on his knees but that had happened plenty over the years. It was that sheep shit smell coming off old scuffed cowboy boots, and then, what he knew to be overripe man. The Winchesters were all fairly fastidious by nature, but there were times they couldn't get a room for a while, so he knew what that smelled like.

There was a hand pushing his head down. His hair had grown past its usual length and the fingers were clenched tight in it. Dean was already choking in dread. It was that bar in that town on that night, and he had been old enough to know what would happen, eventually, if he performed the act Dad was being paid for.

Unknowingly, he started to toss his head in his sleep.

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Although Sam was tired, sleep wouldn't come. Always a deep thinker, he couldn't shut his mind down. Feeling Dean's warm breath against his neck, he smiled. Despite everything that had happened to Dean in his youth, he still felt safe with his little brother.

Sam was awed that Dean could feel such a deep love for him, and be capable of enjoying the physical love between them, too. Sam had never really thought about being in Dean before, and when he'd suggested it, it had been motivated by the desire to give his brother the same incredible pleasure Sam had felt when Dean's dick had touched his inner ecstasy spot, over and over, until Sam had lost it like never before in his life.

He felt a wave of hatred rise at the thought of Dean being violated, at the strangers who'd taken Dean's innocence and trust, and most of all at his father. Suddenly, he saw before his inner eyes his thirteen-year-old brother, his freckled face and deep green eyes, the expression of utter horror when Dean understood what John Winchester had just agreed to have done to his eldest.

Sam's stomach rose with bile, but before the unwanted movie in his head could continue, Dean began to thrash his head in his sleep, moaning and making choked sounds, as if he were trying to say 'no' but was suffocating on something down his throat. Sam froze, as there was only one explanation as to what was going on in his brother's dream.

It took him only a second to react. Sam loosened his hold on Dean, so that Dean wouldn't feel restrained, and rubbed his back gently. "I've got you, Baby," he crooned. "You're safe." Sam brought one hand up and caressed Dean's cheek. "I love you."

This was the second time he'd called his older brother 'Baby', and Sam wasn't sure if Dean would appreciate this if he were awake, but he'd never felt so protective before. Dean seemed to settle down, and Sam continued to rub his back and tell him how much he loved him.

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Whoever was holding him in place went away, and the dream changed. Something about grandstands at a race track, fishing in a ditch. A couple of paramedics carrying people from a burning house the color of goldenrod flowers. And then Sam. At first they were on a hunt. It was night, and cold. The two of them were hunched in a tunnel.

It changed again; they were nowhere. Everything was white light - even they were made of the light, though they had bodies. With everything he was, Dean yearned for Sam, his love and his touch. It was if he'd kept it at bay for centuries, not years, and in one moment, Sam-of-the-light focused on him and they burst like a brand-new galaxy.

Not surprisingly, he woke up hard. Dean also felt immediately that Sam was there with him, warm and lean and open to him finally, and moved sleepily to wrap around him.

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"Dean," Sam whispered, still not sure whether his brother had succeeded in escaping from his nightmare. "You're here with me and I love you. You're safe. I've got you."

When Dean moved to wrap himself around Sam, Sam tightened his hold. "You're mine and I love you. Forever, you hear? Please let me take care of you." He caressed Dean's short hair and kissed his lips, his cheek, anywhere he could get his mouth.

"I love you."

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Slowly waking up, Dean peered blearily out from under heavy lids. Still the same room, the same bed, still daytime. Inches from his ear, Sam was whispering and murmuring to him. As his brain finally made sense of the words, Dean listened and drank it in. He also felt his face grow hot at whatever it was that had made Sam launch himself into extreme comforting mode. Maybe he needed Dean's reassurance as well? After all, it had been something of a big day in his life.

"Sammy," Dean began, after the flame faded from his skin. "Love you, too, man. A lot. So much." Ick, the inside of his mouth felt all pasty. He licked at Sam's neck. There was salt on his skin now. Between it and the resulting drool, that tasted all kinds of better. "Dude, you're beginning to sound like a broken record. Was I talking in my sleep or something?" He tried not to sound too harsh. Yes, today was special, but they weren't a pair of teenaged girls. He'd already gone far, far beyond any displays of affection and openness compared to the rest of his life and in a way, it felt like he'd given himself a gaping wound.

Dean had a nasty suspicion that he'd revealed more than he wanted to, but he only had a fleeting recollection of his dreams. One had been... unpleasant. It was one of the recurring ones, probably triggered by what he'd told Sam. "How long was I out? You didn't sleep. Um, you're okay, right?" Looking up, Dean took a quick assessment. Sam, though holding him easily enough, looked pissed. There were a number of possibilities as to why. Dean hoped to hell it wasn't because Sam regretted sharing his body fully. Or more to the point, sharing it with a person with such a history. He didn't think he could take it if they had to pull another 180 after all that - sex and love and making love and... everything. 

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Dean started rooting around and opened his eyes. After telling Sam that he loved him, too - still half asleep, Sam presumed - Dean suggested that Sam was beginning to sound like a broken record. Back to his normal, sarcastic self, then. Sam wasn't sure how he should react, but since he'd decided to let Dean call the shots, he went along with it.

"No, I didn't sleep," he replied. "Unlike you, I got way too much sleep at Harvelle's." Sam smirked. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." His smile widened. "More than fine. I might need a day to recover, but I can't wait for us to do that again. You in me and the hottest shower in the world."

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"That was really hot, the hottest ever," Dean agreed. "As in, sexy." He rolled his hips and let Sam feel exactly what the thought of it did to him. Saying what he meant proved more of a challenge. "You're something, Sam. Really. You're so... god, so much a man, so much mine." If he'd been upright - his entire body, not just a certain part of it - he'd have been waving his hands, trying to express the enormity of it, and of Sam. "I dunno. It's almost hard to believe this is real."

Dean couldn't keep his hands off Sam's body, no matter that he couldn't be in him again yet. For all that he ragged on his little brother for being touchy-feely, in bed, that was another thing entirely - which was why Dean was uncomfortable with shows of affection out of bed. Casual touching really wasn't casual for him; it always intimated sex. Since he could, he slid a palm down Sam's back to the swell of his butt. There was really nothing quite like grabbing a handful of ass-cheek, playing with the hard muscle. At the same time, he wiggled his other hand between their chests, where he traced the chiselled lines of his brother's pectorals, the few fine hairs in the center dividing valley, and both nipples, circling one fingertip just to see them pull tight.

"MmMMmmm, yeah," Dean groaned. "Sweet. So good to me." He flicked his gaze up, to see the slanted greenish hazel eyes fixed upon him. Sam was panting through parted lips. Tilting his head back, Dean licked Sam's chin, plying the slight rasp of his tongue along with its wet slickness against the dark sandpaper prickles. "Let me good to you, too. 'D you like some ointment from Charlie, or should I kiss it better?" Just then Dean lined his index finger parallel to the crevasse which hid the entrance to Sam's body.

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Dean appeared almost as the old Dean Sam knew - almost. His brother rubbing his erection against Sam was new, and he hoped it would never 'get old'. He laughed. "What do you mean, it's almost hard to believe this is real? How much harder do you think you can get?"

His dick was definitely showing interest, too, although Sam wasn't sure how he could get hard again so soon. Still, hard or half-mast, he groaned with delight at Dean's hands on him, gasping when the strong fingers grazed a nipple. Then, his brother licked along his chin and tapped his hole with a finger, and Sam knew he was lost as he went from zero to sixty in less than a second.

"Nuuuhhh... Oh my god! Dean! Please lick it!"

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Raising an eyebrow, Dean grinned, "Lots harder. You of all people should know." At least it would feel that way. The longer he made himself wait, the more his dick would strain, his balls would grow heavy, his entire body congested with need. Sam should have the same experience, he decided. At his hands or... tongue.

"You're going to get exactly what you asked for," Dean told him, widening his eyes before he dived into Sam's neck. "Starting here." The long column of Sam's throat with the tendons to each side, Adam's apple and hollow below, he covered those points and the jumping pulse with little swipes of his tongue. Sam's breathing quickened, and Dean felt, far below, the brushing touches of his dick coming to life. Wiggling down a little, Dean trailed slick lips from the arch of Sam's prominent collarbone, the 'upper' one since they were lying on their sides facing, toward his arm. Every few seconds, he glanced upwards. Sam watched him like a hawk, so far letting him have his way.

As much as he admired his brother's build, thus far Dean had always touched him pretty much forthrightly, using a firm grip or grabbing, pulling. Right now, he set aside his usual mien to tease even more slowly. Going mole to mole over the Sam's deltoid, he followed the cut down to where his bicep met it. His tongue was his utensil, saliva his medium, like he were drawing his love down Sam's body. Only, drawn to the tight pack of the round muscle, Dean bit, opening his mouth wide around the flesh and sucking like that.

There were many raised veins in Sam's forearms and hands; Dean continued on there, tracing each with longer licks. At the end, he dragged his tongue all the way to the end of Sam's pinkie. It was such a cliche to suck fingers, so instead, Dean twirled his tongue-tip on the pad then licked the webbing between the digits, following Sam's calluses across the top of his palm. Getting impatient even with himself, he stuck his tongue out flat and wide and went all the way back up Sam's inner arm, the skin so soft there, thin and sensitive. After a second's hesitation, Dean pushed the limb up and went to the armpit, nosing into the dark, coarse hair. There was a 'part' to it in the crease of the joint, which Dean applied his tongue to. Sam squirmed and snorted laughter, which Dean joined him in, happy to snort up the lush pheromones.

"On your back, Sammy," rasped Dean, spotting his next target. He rolled on top and licked at the disc of Sam's nipple, the tiny raised bumps around the rim, and the nub in the center. Sam bucked; Dean grinned again and licked harder, then copied the movements on the second. He found he had straddled Sam's hips but it felt right. Their cocks were trapped under his pubic bone, and, curving his back, Dean ground down. "Mmmmm... Like it Sam? Love doing this. You taste good." He leaned up a little, to kiss Sam and feed him the taste of his own skin. After all the licking, his tongue was starting to tingle and he licked instead of actually kissing across Sam's lips, then opened up his soft pink mouth and stroked tongue on tongue.

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"Gods! Dean!" Within seconds, Sam was reduced to a moaning, wantonly thrashing bundle. He wanted to touch Dean, but Sam's limbs didn't obey his brain any longer. Dean's tongue was everywhere, made love to every bit of exposed skin, setting Sam on fire. He'd never known that his body consisted only of erogenous zones, and Dean found and explored every single one of them.

The licking, kissing, nibbling on his throat made Sam feel bathed in love and it aroused him to no end. Then, his brother's mouth moved on, ever so slowly, down his collarbone to his shoulder. A bite followed by soothing laps on his bicep made him shudder, then moan loudly when Dean licked the crook of his arm. Dean made love to Sam's hand, and Sam held his breath, waiting for his brother to suck on his fingers, but it didn't happen. Instead, Dean slowly lapped his way up Sam's inner arm.

Somewhat relieved that Dean had given his fingers a miss - the association of having his dick sucked would have made him blow instantaneously - Sam almost choked on his sharp inhalation and broke into helpless giggles when Dean tickled his armpit first with his nose, then with his tongue.

Before he could say anything, however, Dean pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. Pinned down by his brother's weight, Sam panted with need. Dean's firm abdominal muscles pressed against Sam's swollen dick, and Sam tried to rub up against him. Dean moved until their cocks were aligned against each other, and Sam felt wetness. He knew he must be leaking like a sieve, and his and Dean's fluids together provided the perfect balance between slipperiness and friction as Dean ground down on him.

Sam thought he was losing his mind with the newly-kindled desire - and then Dean aimed for his nipple. He felt the tiny nub harden under the initially gentle licks that grew more and more demanding, ending with Dean pulling at the tightened bud with his teeth. Sam growled deep in his throat and bucked up hard against Dean's body, whining with need when the treatment was repeated on the other side.

Apparently, Dean was not in a hurry to continue to Sam's lower body: quite the opposite, Dean moved up and started to kiss Sam, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, until Sam thought he'd burst before Dean ever got to do what he'd promised. He moaned into his brother's mouth, trying to form words to urge him on, but his brain still refused to cooperate. All he managed was a desperate, "Dean, please!" Sam could only hope that Dean would recognize his need and quit teasing soon.

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Seeing Sam so gone with lust from what Dean was doing to him ratcheted up Dean's level of arousal. Already he had to concentrate on holding back rather than just move into getting them both off as fast as possible. He was torn. While he wanted to make good on his promise - or threat - to lick Sam into oblivion, and do it slow, Sam was already writhing, making pitiful begging noises. It took some effort to hold him down, and all they were doing was kissing and rubbing together.

That familiar warm wetness smeared below his navel. "Jeez, Sammy, you're wet like a girl," he breathed. It was no insult - admiration tinged his voice. "Or, like a boy, huh?" Anyway, Dean's own slit was spitting plenty of clear fluid. With every shift, little drops of it escaped, the whole out-of-control-ness getting to him.

It was decided. He dismounted, grabbed Sam by the shoulder and pulled, twisting him around. "Alright then, right where you want it. On your knees, and get than fine ass up." Dean 'helped' some more, his teeth bared, more animal than smile. He got Sam, who was suddenly uncoordinated and disjointed, onto his belly and pulled his hips high before he could start humping the bed. Sudden inspiration, even though it was going to amount to more teasing, hit.

Draping himself over Sam's tall but folded body, Dean let his erection slide between his brother's legs, so it pressed up against his balls. "One of these days, Sammy," he growled, "I'm gonna take you this way..." It made Dean drool, thinking about it, picturing it. He was aware too of how his pre-cum was going to be running down their legs, combined with Sam's, any minute. He kissed along the line of spinal bumps in front of his face, licking into the deep valley between slabs of muscle. "God, I love this! Love your body!" He couldn't keep it in. More licks, moving downward, backing himself up too, to the level of Sam's waist.

Straightening up just to get a bead on things, because his vision was going all psychedelic again, Dean got a knee between Sam's and wrestled his thighs wide. "So pretty, Baby... Spread for me." He didn't waste any more time. Dean grabbed one cheek in each hand, seeing his pale freckled fingers spaced wide around the peachy flesh, and he pulled them apart. Whatever it was that made Sam love his hole being touched so much, Dean didn't know, but what he did know was that it put his baby brother into the stratosphere and...

Dean continued his journey. At the top of Sam's crease, his tongue touched down. Sam was moaning like something that needed to be put down, so loud and deep, the sound all around them. Never mind what he was actually doing, Sam was clean from their long shower yet. Next time Dean looked up, Sam had turned his head, and, eyes locked on Sam's face, Dean put out his tongue, ran it down the final inches. There, that little pucker, puffy now and a little looser from having been fucked. He had done that! Lick, lick, lick around the rim, through the very center, and then inside. The taste exploded in Dean's senses. Fuck it! He buried his face and then his tongue.

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"Gods!" Sam gasped when Dean ordered him to get on all fours, and then again when he told him that one day he'd take him like this. With Dean's leaking erection against his balls, Sam gasped again, close to telling his brother to do it NOW, certain that he wanted nothing more than having Dean stab his hard flesh inside him until he passed out from ecstasy.

It was only his breathlessness that stopped him from asking. Sam could hardly move; it was Dean who pushed his thighs apart with his knee as he licked broad stripes down Sam's back, making him shudder with delight. For a moment, the focus was off his aching dick and balls, and he panted, "Just do it, Dean. Please!"

His brother didn't linger. Sam howled when Dean pulled his butt cheeks apart to expose his needy hole. He felt it pucker and clench with anticipation, his breath coming in harsh gasps and moans as he waited until Dean finally, finally relented.

Already at the first touch of the tongue, Sam threw his head back and moaned wantonly. His eyes met with Dean's, urging him to go on. Dean hadn't even touched him, not his dick, not his balls, and not his hole, and yet Sam felt so close that he feared a single lick of that incredible tongue would run the cup over.

Slowly, so torturously slowly, Dean began to lick around Sam's entrance. Sam moaned and howled, and tried to shift his hips and get Dean to lick him there, there, oh please.... but Dean's hands held him in place. Sam's eyes were watering with need as Dean continued teasing him, while his dick drooled long strings of clear liquid onto the sheets. Judging from the amount of it, Sam began to wonder if he could cum after all, but then Dean grazed his hole with the tip of his tongue and Sam cried out.

Every muscle in his body tensed, and a tingling spread through his lower body as he felt his balls draw up. Dean pushed against the resisting sphincter that had tightened up with Sam's imminent release. Pressing harder, Dean wiggled his tongue inside and licked around. Unable to hold back, Sam cried out hoarsely as liquid flames raced up his spine. All his synapses began to fire simultaneously and his brain shut down with sensory overload as he began to shoot.

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This was it: Dean giving Sam exactly what he needed. If he was sticking his tongue up Sam's ass, then he was going to be the best at it, ever. Not knowing his incoherent brother was so close, Dean went to work. There was a technique to prying that little pucker open with a slippery, bendy probe rather than fingers or his dick. He sucked the rim, and slipped in under the displacement.

Almost as soon as Dean managed to poke his tongue into and through the tight sphincter, Sam bellowed and started to shake. The internal surfaces and the strong ring muscle contracted violently. If Dean had thought for one minute that being rimmed would bring Sam off so fast, he'd have trapped those large, hanging balls in their sac using a ring of fingers and thumb, but with his nose level with Sam's tailbone and eyes above, locked stare for stare with the slitted hazel ones, he had no warning.

It was now obvious Sam was about to cum any second. Shiny sweat sprang up on his hairline and back, which arched so that his ass pushed hard into Dean's face. Dean pushed back; he led with his tongue, keeping it inside, stuffing it back in when Sam's spasming body tried to clamp down and force it out. The jittery shaking melted into rhythmic thrusts. Almost too late, Dean slid his right hand between Sam's legs from behind and jerked his pulsing cock. The first hard spurt hit and Sam grunted, spraying white juice onto the sheet. The next got all over his belly and the rest were a mess of streaks and splatters as Dean kept stroking him through his orgasm, tongue still as deep in Sam's hole as it could stretch. The pointed tip hit a firmer bump that made Sam scream, so he prodded it again, and again.

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"NNNNNUUUUUGGGHHHHH...!"

Pulse after pulse of hot cream gushed from Sam's slit as his frame was wracked with spasms. He cried, screeched, yelled with each spurt as he rode out an infinite series of peaks. Just when he thought his body would give out, Dean's tongue hit ground zero deep inside him. Sam wailed loudly while his spent dick heaved a final load of cum, so viscous that it burned as it forced its way through his inner ducts and tubes until he broke down sobbing.

Dean withdrew his tongue, and Sam felt the sudden emptiness too acute to bear. "No," he gasped, his torso flat on the bed and too exhausted to move except for a hand that weakly fumbled for his brother.

"Dean," he begged, "I need you in me now. Need you to fill me with your love. Please?"

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If he hadn't been one-hundred percent concentrated on Sam's pleasure, Dean could have come off just from Sam's groans and cries, and the knowledge that Sam was shooting and shooting. Around his tongue and against his mouth, the fluttering contractions just kept going. Finally Dean pulled back as the sounds changed to yowls that signalled the near-agonizing end of Sam's peak - or peaks: there was so much seed and other juices under him it was hard to gauge.

Leaving his open palms upon Sam's haunches, Dean smiled. At least part of it was self-satisfaction over being responsible for the epitome of blissed-out before him. Sam's ass, shiny with spit, was still raised high, propped up by long thighs folded below his pelvis, but he'd given up on holding his torso up. His face was turned to the side, his head and upper body flat to the mattress. Slack, spread, slick... And the most gorgeous thing Dean had ever seen. 

_"Need you to fill me with your love!"_

Hearing that, Dean's mind had a spontaneous orgasm. "Yesssss... Oh god!!" Heat roared through him, wildfire down his belly. Before it exploded uncontrolled, he whipped both hands to his crotch. Almost too late, he curled one hand as tight as he could around the base of his cock, nearly strangling it. The other tugged his balls down roughly. The ache and fullness threatened to short out his brain. "God Sam... no... how..." he hissed through gritted teeth, his rampant dick trying to surge in his fist. Before, Sam had said he was too sore. Didn't make Dean's body want it any less. 

Among the rumpled sheets, he spotted the tube of lube he'd stolen. "Can I, Sam, please? Gonna be inside you." Till he said the words aloud, the fierceness of that want hadn't registered. Now Dean was the one trembling, so badly he almost couldn't get the cap off the tube. Then he squeezed out way too much, but used it anyway. The coolness of it helped take the edge off his desperate need, and slicking Sam's little hole, stretching him without hurting him, called to Dean's protective instincts. The two were a battle raging - bury himself and rut and fuck, or prepare his lover, to 'ease the way', as Sam had called it.

The squelching noises were a bit obscene, but Sam just kept gazing up at Dean with such an expression of trust, and he couldn't break that. His first two fingers slid in easily enough, and in a few short moments, he wiggled his ring finger in, too. Just short of the actual, dual-band silver ring, Dean stopped, reversing grip into spreading the haphazard cone shape. He blinked sweat from his eyes; the room filled with his harsh breathing. "Sammy..." he moaned, so needy. There, he was four fingers into Sam now, not what he really craved at all. And Sam had asked him for it...

Pulling his hand free, Dean wiped the extra lube on the covers and moved in, right behind Sam. He hissed again at the first kiss of his leaking slit against Sam's stretched entrance. Once it was flesh on flesh, Dean couldn't stop.

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Dean's harsh breathing and his widened eyes told Sam how much his brother needed to finish. For a moment, it looked as Dean would lose it instantaneously at Sam's request to be inside him, but Dean clamped down on his dick and got a reprieve.

Sam felt warm and blissed out as he turned his head to watch Dean prepare him. The endorphin rush ensured that there was no pain as Dean carefully stretched him open with shaking hands. Sam was sure he'd be sore later, but it would be worth it. Finally, Dean seemed convinced that Sam was ready for him. He knelt behind his younger brother and lined up his dick against Sam's hole, hissing with need.

Just as Dean began to push against the swollen entrance, Sam smiled widely. "I love you," he said and pressed back, bearing down, so that Dean slid all the way in to the hilt. The sensation of his brother filling him was still new and strange, but nothing had ever felt so right to Sam. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

Dean's face was flushed and sweaty. Tiny twitches indicated how much it cost him to hold still, and his hands were almost cramping on Sam's hips. "I want you to move," Sam said. "Want you to lose it in me. Want you to cum for me, Dean!"

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He... He... couldn't take it, it was too much. Too much pressure, and especially too much pleasure. How would he even last to get inside, much less anything else? Sam pushed back against him and somehow, between the ridiculous amount to lube, the rigidity of Dean's cock and Sam's wily maneuvering, Dean went from a simple touch to nearly all the way into his brother. His hips hitched and he slammed the rest of the way in. A choked, "...I love you...!" tore from his throat. About to pass out from breathlessness and the speed of his wildly beating heart, or simply to lose it and wallow and cum, Dean raked his eyes from where they were now joined, to Sam's face, sweaty-shiny and so in love. He felt the same, deep in his heart-guts-balls and everything he was.

He was moving, he couldn't stop himself, especially not when Sam urged him on. Dean slid his knees apart for leverage. Gripped Sam's hipbones. Tried an experimental thrust. It was good, so fucking good, the slick grip around every inch of him and Sam's body, warm and huge, absorbing the shock. "Oh yeah, Sammy, oh! Unnngh!"

The room resounded in wet smacks and the unmistakable sounds of humans having sex. The fronts of Dean's thighs slapped the backs of Sam's, Dean's balls against Sam's. A hot rising caught in his spine and lower, lava splashing through his veins and it needed out, so bad, so close! "More, god more!" Dean didn't even know 'more what', but something. He fell forward, chest to Sam's back; the friction of his rutting extended to all parts of their bodies that touched. Without warning other than that he'd started so close already, he was there, his peak overwhelming him. Helpless and powerful, both, Dean let his mating instinct loose as he thrust heavily, hands now free upon Sam and holding him tight. Once, and the tension gathered in his balls, his load about to burst. Twice, and the floodgate opened...

Dean screamed his passion and let it go deep in Sam, as deep as he could get while his body humped futilely to milk more and more out of him. "Sam, I'm cumming... Love you, Sam... Fill you up...!" It was painful, actually hurt to cum that hard, which only made it better in some twisted way that Dean had always associated with sex, anyway. Releasing in Sam, inside his body, that was the ultimate sharing of his love. He cried out once more at the realization.

As the last dregs of seed trickled from him, Dean's tightly clenched muscles went limp and he lay draped like a wet, 6'1", 190-pound rag over his brother's body. OK, not so good for recovery. Leaning to his right, Dean rolled them to their sides, taking care to keep them joined. He couldn't speak now, so he pressed his mouth to Sam's neck, not even a kiss but just contact, fingers sliding through the mess on Sam's belly. If in not so many words, Dean could only echo that staying like this forever would be his version of heaven.

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Dean was in him, on him, all around him. Sam was in heaven as Dean thrust into him and lost himself as he approached his peak. Then Dean was screaming, whimpering, crying as he slid into Sam as deep as he could and filled him with his love. For a moment, time stood still, and they became one.

Then, Dean collapsed on Sam's body, shaking with aftershocks. Somehow, they managed to end up on their sides, with Dean still buried to the root in Sam, his softening cock twitching. Sam tried to tighten his sphincter in a vain attempt to keep Dean inside his body, but failed eventually. Dean slipped out with a groan, followed by a rush of slick fluids and an echoing groan by Sam.

Now that the endorphin rush faded, Sam noticed that he was sore as hell. There had better be some ointment in Charlie's stash. Still, he wouldn't have missed this. Dean inside him, Sam was sure he'd never get used to the feeling. It was as close as the two of them could get physically, and there simply couldn't be enough of that. If only...

Dean would never be able to feel Sam deep inside him, feel Sam filling him with his love. Because someone had taken that away from him. Their Dad had let someone take it away from Dean. Their Dad had forced Dean to give up his innocence and the potential to welcome Sam making love to him. For a gun and some ammo.

Sam froze. He ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't cry, then he forced himself to continue breathing. No way was he sharing these thoughts with his blissed-out brother. Before Dean could ask, he offered, "Dude, that was totally awesome. But I'll really appreciate you putting some cream on me later."

He turned around to face his brother. Dean's eyes were still glassy and Sam smiled as he kissed the luscious lips. "Do you think there's any chance we got the warm water back?"

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Dean groaned as his dick slid out of Sam, along with some of his cum and leftover lube. It was kind of gross, but sexy, too. The scent of their combined fluids was thick in his nostrils. Sam tensed. Still panting heavily, Dean waited for Sam to say something, arm thrown over his brother's ribs. It seemed like Sam was struggling with his thoughts, but that wasn't surprising considering the incredible sex. 

Long enough that Dean began to worry if something was wrong, Sam remained quiet. Just when Dean was about to speak, Sam did. Oh, he must really be sore! Dean winced in sympathy. Lube or not, that little pucker had had a workout. Sam wasn't whining, though, only focusing on getting better. If anything, it made him more of a man in Dean's eyes, that he could take it, willingly.

"I already put some cream _in_ your hole, I'll gladly put some _on_ , too." Dean rasped, and chuckled at his own joke. "I still don't know how long I was out. It's a motel - they gotta have a huge hot water heater. So yeah, I'll bet it's hot again." He kissed Sam's shoulder blade. "Always hot with you."

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"Hm, maybe a cold shower would be a good idea, after all." Sam winced when he moved. "I can't believe that we did it three times. What are we, teenagers?"

That brought back memories of him and Dean fooling around in their teenage days. A second later, Sam was once again struck by the thought of Dean's brutal introduction to sexuality. He bit down on his lower lip, prepared to blame his sore hole again if Dean should ask.

"In any event, it might be a good idea to not shower together again," Sam said. "Well, at least not right now. I can't wait to get my hands all over you - and pick up the soap," he winked, "but it'd better not be today. Unless you want me to crawl after the poltergeist."

Sam yawned and stretched his arms. "So, you wanna go first?"

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Stretching, Dean twisted side to side to crack his back. When had they ever lolled in bed like this, even alone? Who knew what Sam did at Stanford, but beyond that, sleeping in and napping for any reason but dire lack of sleep or illness, certainly not indulgent sex in the middle of the day - that was not done in the Winchester family. Only a few precious times when Dad had been hunting and left Dean behind, and lately, at Harvelle's.

"No, we're no longer teenagers. But just as horny, I'd say," Dean grinned. "Technically, it was twice, and blow jobs in the shower, but oh well. If you're counting orgasms, you'd better start cutting notches in your belt now, because I intend to make you lose count in the near future. Say by, oh, next week or so."

Sam grimaced when he moved. Earlier, Dean had already said 'sorry but not sorry' about his sore butt. He decided Sam was right. If they went back into the shower-of-recent-memory again, together and naked, who knew what they'd get into. "Nah, you first," Dean replied, when offered the first chance at it. "You need to... soothe... things." He cast a quizzical look up at Sam as he stood. "Do get the ointment when you're done, though. You'll want to take care of that right away or even a short drive will have you wishing never to sit down again."

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Sam laughed. "Right. I don't want to end up having to kneel in the passenger seat. I'll hurry. See you in a sec." He kissed Dean, then stood - and leaned down to kiss him again, mumbling, "I miss you already..."

While he waited for the water to get warm, Sam reached for a piece of toilet paper. Making sure that Dean couldn't watch him, he wiped his butt crack, sighing with relief when he found only a sticky but clear mess on the tissue, and no trace of blood as he'd feared for a moment. His brother hadn't missed that Sam was in pain, but at least he could prove that there was no injury. Unlike...

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Sam was sore despite Dean's loving care. How must it have been for the much younger Dean to be penetrated, most likely without any preparation and proper lubricant? Sam's stomach spasmed and he shivered despite the steam rising from the shower. He braced himself against the wall as he struggled to push away the image of his crying brother under the brutal assault when their father had betrayed him... Oh god, how many times had Dad forced Dean to let himself be ripped open?

Sam pressed his fists against his eyes, crying silent tears when the images wouldn't leave. Shit, if he didn't manage to pull himself together, Dean would enter the room and ask what the hell was going on. Sam took a shuddering breath and tottered into the shower stall where he dialed the temperature down to what he hoped would be freezing. It was cold enough to make him gasp. The cold was also numbing his skin, and particularly, his sore bottom.

As much as he hated cold water, Sam appreciated it this time because his teeth were shaking so hard that it took his mind off his beloved Dean in pain, if only for a minute. In the end, he had to go for warm water again because otherwise Dean would immediately smell a rat. He toweled himself dry, wincing as he ran the fabric down his burning crack. Still, it was nothing compared to the pain Dean must have suffered...

 _STOP IT!_ Dean hadn't confided to Sam so that Sam would see the poor, weak victim in him from now on. If Dean wanted to talk, Sam would be ready, but otherwise, Sam had to suck it up. The last thing his brother needed was having to comfort Sam over what had been done to him.

Sam set his jaw firmly. He could do it, he told himself - again, as he was already losing count of how many times he'd promised this in the past few hours. He snagged the tube of ointment from the shelf above the sink and returned to the bedroom.

The sight of Dean smiling at him - wasn't there even a hint of a hungry leer in his eyes? - made him want to cry, but he blinked the tears away and smiled back, lying to himself that they'd have been tears of happiness.

"Your turn now, bro."

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"Alright. Save the ointment till I get back - I wanna put it on you. Hope you left me some warm water," Dean tossed over his shoulder as he walked to the bathroom. He'd enjoyed the view of Sam's front side when he returned, those insane shoulders and cut hipbones, and he could feel eyes on his ass as he retreated. It made him feel smug and loved; the attraction was undeniable between them, physically, visually, mentally, everything. He wondered if Sam was the jealous type. Given his reaction to Ash, he felt possessive but wasn't going to be a jerk about it. Besides, Dean could take care of himself. Up until a week and a half ago, he'd been his own man, never part of a couple for more than a few weeks and even that a rarity.

In the shower, Dean washed as fast as he could while still being thorough. Two showers in one day again. What luxury. But they couldn't very well go out in public reeking of sweat and sperm and ass. Sam's stiff movements told Dean what he wouldn't say. Yeah, he knew about that. Every time he thought about the bad things that had happened to him... He hadn't told Sam the half of it. So far, Sam had been reasonably accepting, as in, he didn't seem to blame Dean for... allowing it. It was far too late to change anything. Had he said no back then, Dean mused, it would probably have gone far worse. His body had rebelled more than once. The results had not been pleasant. A broken nose once, bruises, and... He shuddered and changed the subject in his brain.

He had Sam, they had each other. Like Sam had murmured, half asleep, nothing else mattered. Not even that Dean had been a slut for half his life in some attempt to find someone would would find enough worth in him to defy the odds to keep him. Sammy did, had tried and yet he'd listened to his big brother when Dean had told him no. It was some heavy irony, there. Or, not that Sam had took off alone to save his sanity and lost his fiancee, who he had loved - Dean could accept that - and her parents had lost a daughter to their stupidity. They both had a huge debt to settle over that. The only way Dean knew how was by hunting. Defying Karma. And they would.

Shutting the water off, Dean toweled his chest and arms dry, ruffled his hair to get most of the water out, and wrapped the towel around his waist to return to the cooler air of the room. Sam was stretched on the bed on his stomach, feet hanging off the end. Now that he was allowed to touch his brother, the unsatisfied furtive lust feeling was gone. Now it was desire and fondness.

"Ready to play doctor?" Dean quipped.

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As soon as his brother turned the shower on, Sam's disturbing thoughts returned. Shit, this was going to be a real problem. Unless his mind was fried with sex and need, he couldn't keep it off Dean's past.

How on Earth had Dean managed to enjoy fooling around with Sam when they'd been teens? When Sam had asked his older brother for 'help', Dean had clearly liked what they'd been doing. Sam had been thirteen, the same age Dean had been when he'd been... raped for the first time. There, he'd used the word. Sam's stomach roiled, but he fought the nausea down. Dean must never find out about these thoughts.

Sam forced himself to bring up the image of Dean in the shower, his dick on Sam's tongue, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open, panting with the onrush of his peak. He smiled for a moment before the image was replaced of a younger Dean in the shower, bruised and bleeding from injuries that couldn't be the result of hunting. Dean, crying because he was too young to understand what was happening to him, why his father let men do this to him instead of protecting him. Oh god. How could Dean make love to Sam after what he'd been through?

The water was shut off.

_"Ready to play doctor?"_

Sam's smile was forced, but he quickly rolled over on his stomach. Maybe Dean hadn't noticed. And even if he had, Sam could always use the excuse of being sore.

"I love you so much it fucking hurts," he suddenly burst out. "God, Dean..." Sam almost choked before he got himself under control again.

"Yes, please. I'm ready."

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Sam eyed him, as he approached the rumpled bed, although it didn't look like desire to Dean. Sam's eyes were dark, but he quickly turned so Dean couldn't see his face directly. What was going on? Second thoughts? Please, no.

 _I love you so much it fucking hurts..._ Sam sounded wrecked. Maybe 'destroyed' was a more accurate word. Hadn't he, earlier, held Dean and reassured him that the past was behind them and all that mattered was the here and now, going forward? What had happened in the last five minutes?

"Sammy... Love you, too. More than anything." Dean sat by him on the bed, and laid a hand on his back. "It did hurt, for a long time, when we weren't together. Years. You know. But it doesn't anymore. Not for me. Why does it hurt you, Sam? Tell me. Do you... regret it?" Dean bent down and kissed the back of Sam's neck, just below the ends of his hair. It had grown out at least a couple inches in the year and a half since Dean had stolen him from his California life. There were still light streaks in the lush strands, left over from Sam's sunlit pre-law days. He knew himself how impressions, memories, and random thoughts could hit without warning. Maybe... What he was giving up to be incestuous love with his messed-up drifter of an older brother had settled on Sam.

The ointment was next to Sam's hip; Dean reached for it and uncapped the tube but made no move to apply it yet. It would be more than a little outre, expecting Sam to speak to these things while Dean was rubbing cream onto his anus. This turn of thoughts almost made Dean laugh, if humorously. "I'm not... I regret nothing," he whispered fiercely.

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The mouth on his neck made Sam feel warm all over and bathed in love. His love - their love - was so much more than only physical desire, although he never wanted to live without Dean's body now that he'd finally been allowed to have it.

"I don't regret it," Sam replied instantly when Dean asked. That his brother had to ask was unsettling but not surprising: Sam was aware that beneath his often boisterous behavior, Dean was deeply insecure. It was the reason why Dean had always followed their Dad's orders without questioning, even when...

Sam stiffened, and Dean couldn't have missed it. "Dean." Sam looked up and saw the fear in his brother's eyes. He turned onto his side and reached for Dean's hands. "Dean. This... Making love with you... It's like nothing I've ever felt before. And I'm not talking about getting our rocks off. It's... everything."

He tightened his hands on Dean and blinked. "Then... the thought that someone did... that to you... They did it to hurt you, the same act with which you made me the happiest and most loved man on Earth..."

Sam choked out, "And now I'm hurting you because I can't help thinking about that when I should be bursting with joy. And I'm afraid that you'll shut me out because you think you hurt me by telling me."

He looked up with fear in his eyes. "Dean, I'm so fucking scared..."

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Dean's eyebrows crawled up his forehead; he had no idea what to say. Dammit, he should've known to keep his trap shut, that no good would come of bringing up past transgressions. Scared?? Sam was two seconds from a melt-down. Words spewed from his mouth, convoluted: Dean was being hurt by Sam thinking about his past, most of that which Sam was referring to, he was still in the dark about anyway...? It made no sense. Well, it must in some way, to Sam.

"Dude. The only way you could hurt me would be to tell me to fuck off, or," Dean swallowed, because he didn't want to even go there, but the possibility seemed too likely to him right then, "or if you blamed me for... what happened. When I was... what I told you about." More than anything though, this was his little brother, scared as hell, ready to cry or something, needing to be reassured just like when they were little. This was also his lover, who Dean had fought tooth and claw to have, in its own twisted manner. He wasn't going to let anything fuck that up, not if he could help it.

Climbing over Sam, Dean sat in the middle of the bed and pulled Sam halfway into his lap. "I've got you. What we do together has nothing to do with that. It is NOT the same act. Till today, the two things being even vaguely in the same boat never entered my mind. Don't compare them. I mean it."

He was quiet a moment, just holding onto the warm, sprawling body. So tense, Sam kept looking at him like they were strangers, other than the stark naked proximity, which he seemed to need. "Not even when we were young, fooling around, did it. Everything with you feels good, right, welcome. Hell, Sam, you know I was never remotely celibate," and Dean hoped this didn't hurt his brother - their Dad had sure as hell called attention to it annoyingly much - but it was part of who he was. "I know the difference between just sex and love. You taught me that, okay?"

Shit, Sam wasn't any less tense. What had brought up this whole mess in the first place was Dean's inability to let Sam take him. That one thing. It was true that nearly every act they'd done with each other he'd done for money at some point. Hand jobs. Blow jobs. Touching, even kissing. He'd never rimmed anyone, nor had any man asked him to top. A couple of women had paid for sex with him. None of that was 'making love', as Sam liked to call it. "If we were to do... that," he slowly forced the concept into words, "I think I might fight it. Struggle. You know yourself how invasive it is. I'd be a handful." He was holding on too tight now. Sighing, Dean loosened his hold and rubbed Sam's arm.

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"I'm never gonna leave you," Sam said. He chuckled nervously. "In fact, the only way you could make me leave is by killing me." Dean had pulled him in his lap and Sam rested his head on his brother's thigh and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist.

"I want us to be open about anything," he said softly. "I mean it. I want to know what's on your mind. What makes you happy, but also what haunts you so I can try to help you fight it." Sam snorted bitterly. "I hadn't expected... well, I should be the one comforting you, not the other way round. It's wrong. You're always there for me and the one time I want to be strong for you..."

Sam's hand rubbed Dean's back, traced his spine, caressed each vertebra with his fingers.

"Maybe I'm weak, but I'd rather cut my dick off than force you to... do... that..." Sam looked away and swallowed as he echoed Dean's words, not sure how to phrase it in a non-offensive fashion. Previously, he'd have referred to 'making love', but since he and Dean had found each other again, everything they did was love-making in one way or another. Shit, wasn't he supposed to be the eloquent one of the two?

He sighed, but smiled as he looked up into Dean's eyes again. "A few minutes ago, I'd have sworn this wasn't possible, but now I love you even more. For taking care of me and not telling me to shut up and suck it up. Maybe... Dean, I don't mean to make light of it, but you've had some time to come to terms with it, whereas I... I want to be there for you, and I will be there for you. I always have your back, and I will again as soon as I've wrapped my mind around this."

"Dean," Sam squeezed his arms around Dean's waist and nuzzled his nose against his hip, suddenly noticing the chill of his brother's flesh. "Are you warm enough?"

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The impassioned tone of voice Sam was using in combinations to some of his words was bugging Dean out. When he looked down, he noticed goose flesh on his arms and legs. "It's not real warm in here, now that we're not rolling around and rubbing all over each other," he replied easily enough. "But seriously, no more of this killing, maiming crap, Sam. We might be something other than normal, but we don't have to get all 'crazy-talk'. Huh? I want you with me. Period."

Sam knew him well enough to understand today wasn't typical for him. Dean just didn't discuss feelings and mush or anything that might suggest vulnerability. Somehow, Sam had got him to let down his guard today, or he'd broken a little, Dean didn't know, but he was more than ready to re-establish some sort of equilibrium.

"Geez, Sam, you're not weak. You're strong, you're stubborn, you know right from wrong. It's not wrong, that I should... help and comfort you. You're still my little brother. You of all people can handle me, right?" Hypothetical question. "No one else ever could. Get your head around it, good plan. We need to do this hunt, but after, I'll tell you whatever you need to know so that you can work it out. Never meant to hide anything, just, you know... It was mine alone to deal with." Dean wiggled a little, to encourage Sam to keep touching him. When had he grown so tactile? It seemed like what he said wasn't all that helpful, but if he could keep Sam touching him, he would settle.

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Sam meant to tell Dean that he'd be fine, that he'd deal with this, that he'd listen, and then...

_You're still my little brother._

There was nothing Dean could have possibly said that would have touched Sam more than this.

"Oh god," he moaned and scooted closer against his brother's body. "Dean, my brother, my lover, my... everything. And yes, I'm turning into a girl," Sam said dryly, "but really. If you can deal with your past, so can I. I still want to know, but you're right, after the hunt. It will have to wait." He looked fierce now. "We'll make the present count, but I want you to know that you'll never again have to face this - or anything - alone."

Dean was silent, so Sam laid in his lap, soaking up the proximity for a minute before speaking again. "You're still cold. Let's get you dressed and then you can doctor me up so we can take care of the son-of-a-bitch poltergeist tonight. That sound like a plan to you?"

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It wasn't as cold with Sam lying in his lap - the man was like a huge hot water bottle. None-the less, it was time to get moving. Any longer, they'd both get restless. "Yeah, let's go get that son-of-a-bitch."

Dean had heard Sam just fine. When he'd called Dean his everything and grabbed onto him tightly, it had almost been enough to bring his currently-DOA libido back to life. The thrill was psychic this time, like he got a pulse of Sam's feelings. It could've been his own, too, that strong. Or, both. Dean was loathe to point it out till he knew for sure. Till he'd told Sam all of the events concealed for so many years, presumably that night or at least 'soon', he had a wait-and-see attitude as to bringing up one more new wrinkle. 

Giving Sam one last squeeze, Dean slid to the edge of the bed, stood, and located their clothes. That morning, they'd worn them less than two hours before... and he grinned. They been so needy that struggling out of shirts and jeans had taken what seemed like a million years. So they didn't need clean things yet, other than... Dean brought both their duffels over. Having leaked pre come like two sieves, fresh underwear was in order. He threw a rueful glance at Sam. "Every time I have to change boxers on account of... extracurriculars, I'm going to remember your story. About when you were a kid. Having to buy underwear. Wasn't meant to be, I get it, but God, that was sexy."

The overdose of hormones from earlier left Dean in a langourous stupor. Putting his clothes back on, he felt all loose-limbed, half-drunk, aware of the marks left on his body and the pleasant dull, sweet ache in his groin. "Needing some serious caffeine here, Sammy," he commented, zipping up. Still barefoot, he found the tube of ointment again - and the lube, which he stashed in his bag - and turned to his brother, who'd positioned himself prone on the bed for a second time. 

Now this was tempting, Dean mused, unscrewing the cap. The clear goo's sharp medicinal smell reminded him that they weren't exactly playing. Ugh, this could get messy. "Spread your legs a little, Sam," he ordered. He moved closer, and dabbed the first blob of the cream onto the swollen flesh between Sam's cheeks. Hissing in sympathy, Dean squeezed more onto his fingers and covered the area. "Next time, we do this immediately. Well, immediately after you shower or wash." Reddened, the ring muscle and surrounding tissue swollen, it had to hurt. Of course it did.

Over time, Sam's body would adjust. He, Dean had taken care to stretch him very well, four fingers and a lot of lube. Being torn, even just the mucosal skin, was not an option. Dean was relieved to find nothing like that in evidence. He slathered on more of the slightly greasy cream, using his pinkie to push some inside. 

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"How about we grab some coffee and some undies?" Sam had turned onto his side as he watched Dean getting dressed. "And since we're talking about it, you do know that I like it much more when you take your clothes off than when you put them on?"

He grinned, and the grin was real now that he'd finally succeeded in chasing the dark thoughts from his mind. If they returned - which he knew they would - he, or rather, they, would deal with it. To his surprise, Sam felt that his attempt at giving Dean strength by promising that he'd be there with him also meant that he, Sam, wasn't alone with his fears. It came as a revelation and made him breathe easier.

"So," he concluded as he resumed his position on his front, "let's make this quick so we can feed our mutual addiction." Sam rolled his eyes dramatically. "Gotta tell you though, Dean, never make me choose between you and coffee." He winked. "Best would, of course, be having you and coffee."

Aware that he was babbling, Sam forced himself to shut up. The endorphins had very definitely washed out from his body and his hole was throbbing badly. He was sure that there was no injury; Dean had been so careful and tender... Maybe that second round had been a mistake, but Sam had needed Dean and he was ready to pay the price. Which didn't mean he was going to enjoy the next few minutes.

Dean began spreading the ointment on the sore opening. It hurt, but Sam forced himself to breathe calmly. Apparently, Dean's sticky fingers had made a good choice while raiding Charlie's supplies, as the lotion seemed to have a cooling and numbing effect. Sam relaxed and gave his brother a reassuring smile that didn't falter when Dean slipped his greasy pinkie inside his hole.

"Y'know, this stuff is really doing the trick," Sam said. "I'm not sure if it's the cream or your magic fingers, but what I am sure about is that I'll ask you over and over to fuck me because the pain will never last long with such loving care."

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"Between clothed and not, I pick naked. Of course, that's not always expedient. If I had to go shopping for underwear with you - now - I would get kicked out of the place," Dean told Sam, half-serious. He snorted, "They'd get one look at the wood I'd no doubt be packing, and that would be it." Yeah, he could just imagine the scene. Parents shielding their little kids' eyes, women screaming, cops swaggering in to escort the pervert out the door. Not good. 

Ah, so the cooling ingredients felt as good on Sam's hole as on his fingers. He didn't have to - Dean knew he was lingering unnecessarily, but he didn't want to stop what he was doing, fingers applying another layer of the soothing gel. Sam held still, butt pushed up slightly and back arched a little, so not exactly relaxed, intent. No wonder he was babbling - Dean knew he'd have a real hard time, and not in the fun way, in Sam's position. Not like he'd be there, but still. He'd need a distraction, too. He tried to answer, willing his level of consciousness into online status.

Sam probably didn't even know what effect his joking banter had on Dean. I'll ask you over and over to fuck me because the pain will never last long with such loving care. A flush of heat flew over his torso, making his belly shiver and his nipples harden. Usually raw lust went straight to his crotch. If he hadn't been dressed, Dean would be on Sam again, asking him to touch the sensitized areas. "If you ask... You're damned right I'll do it. Not today, but one of these days, Sammy, I'm gonna fuck you within an inch of your life. I've heard some people black out, when they come. It'll be that sort of thing. Wanna give you the best you've ever had. Every time."

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Sam snorted. "As if adding 'sex offender' to our track records were a big deal. But as they'd lock us up in different cells, I suppose we'd better keep naked to ourselves."

Joking with Dean felt good. With the pain in his butt fading, Sam's perception was now focused on his brother's caress. If he'd had any sexual energy left to give, he'd been hard again, but all Sam's dick managed was a feeble twitch. Just as well, he thought, or there was a risk that he'd really ask Dean to fuck him within an inch of his life.

And about that... "You are the best I've ever had, Dean. Not that I've had many," Sam chuckled. Dean had teased him over his 'celibacy vow' for years. It was silly, but Sam would have regretted it deeply now if Dean hadn't been his first. "And right backatcha, Dean. You make me black out, I make you black out. Deal?"

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"Deal," Dean agreed. He was already looking forward to it. Maybe it was just urban legend and they'd never accomplish such a thing, but it would sure be fun trying.

Reluctantly, Dean moved his hand away from Sam's ass and wiped it off on the sheet. He found his socks and boots and got to work. "Get dressed, Sam. Time to roll out. I'm thinking we go scout out the place in daylight, talk to the owners. See what it's been up to. We can plan from there."

Finished tying the laces on his work boots, Dean gathered up his duffel and the ones containing some of their most common weapons and equipment, beyond what they carried on themselves. To that end, he made sure he still had his silver knife in his front pocket, the amulet Sam had given him years ago, his wallet, and he tucked his favorite, pearl-handled pistol into the back of his jeans.

It was a miracle no one had called them, banged on the door, or otherwise disturbed them for so long. Their next-door neighbor had pounded on the wall, he vaguely remembered. Couldn't blame the poor sucker, as vocal as Sam, okay, both of them, had been, with all their pounding and banging. Dean grinned to himself. He was going to have to find a way to keep the sex pushed to the back of his mind when they were working. Somehow. Fine, he'd gone most of his hunting life trying to hold back the fantasies, but now it was real. He was sure if it came to life-or-death, his instincts and training and the determination to keep Sam alive would kick in.

Shifting his weight, Dean leaned casually against the wall and watched his brother dress. 

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Sam's clothes were strewn all over the room. "Man, we really needed it bad," he commented while gathering them and putting them on. "Tell you what, we'd better not get carried away like this during a hunt. Maybe we should put regular, uh, relief breaks in our schedule from now on," he leered. "What do you think?"

Dean looked edible, the way he leaned against the wall. Although he was far beyond sexually sated for the moment, Sam couldn't get enough of drinking in his brother's frame, the subtle strength of his body, which was firm without appearing bulky. Dean was the epitome of male beauty to him. Even - or especially - the bowed legs, which he was sure Dean wasn't too happy about, were an erotic sight for Sam. And his face...

Blushing, Sam coughed. Dean hadn't commented but he had this amused look on his face that told Sam the older brother knew that the younger had been staring at him. Dean didn't seem to mind, but they had a job to do. Time to roll out, indeed.

He swept a final glance over the room to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything. "Right, let's go." When he opened the door to let them out, Sam couldn't help another grin. "I already pity the next inhabitant of this room. Poor guys won't know what hit them when our lingering pheromones strike."

He bumped his shoulder against Dean's and they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments and con-crit are welcome.


End file.
